


The Doctor, the Nurse, and the Queen

by mmgage



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-01
Updated: 2011-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-15 07:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 45
Words: 92,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmgage/pseuds/mmgage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A visit to an Earth-like planet turns complicated when the Doctor is injured, and Rory & Amy are pulled in to court intrigue.  11/Amy/Rory/OC friendship and some DoctorWhump! too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Amy

Amy pushed her hair out of her face for the third time in as many minutes, squinting as the wind stung her eyes. It wasn't raining so much as misting, but the fierce winds were turning the tiny drops into little needles, pricking her skin. She hunched in her jacket, trying to shield more of her face from the blast, and that was when she missed her footing. She felt her ankle turn and the next thing she knew she was hitting the ground. It all happened so fast she didn't even have time to yelp or put out her hands. She wound up landing on one shoulder, adding a dull throb there to the sharp pain shooting through her ankle. For a moment she lay where she was, struggling not to cry as she remembered what had brought her here.

The day had started out like most others. She and Rory woke in their room on the TARDIS, took their time getting out of bed and dressing before venturing out to the console room to find the Doctor fiddling with something. They'd dragged him away from his typewriter-cum-computer to have some breakfast. (The Doctor had, much to Amy's relief, regained his taste for bacon; breakfast simply wasn't breakfast without it in her opinion.) After they'd eaten, they'd returned to the console room to decide where they might go today. Sometimes they drew lots from the Doctor's top-hat, sometimes he had a destination in mind, and sometimes Amy swore he simply let the TARDIS choose. Today he'd had a destination in mind and his resolute expression told her no amount of complaining or cajoling would change his mind. So, at nearly mid-day TARDIS time, they landed on a planet with the designation 1675G. The Doctor mentioned its name once, but Amy found it unpronounceable. The TARDIS sensors had shown that it was chilly outside, so Amy and Rory had collected jackets before they followed the Doctor out of the blue box to see what this world held.

Amy had hoped for something exotic – a strange alien landscape with blue grass and purple skies – but what they found looked very much like the north of England. It felt like it too. The air was damp, with a chill in it that was quickly penetrating the leggings Amy had donned under her skirt. The Doctor had seemed unfazed by the weather, not even taking a jacket, and led them briskly away from the TARDIS, eager to explore. Amy and Rory had followed more slowly. Rory was carting a picnic basket with their lunch and Amy was wishing she'd chosen a different pair of boots.

They'd stopped for lunch on top of a hill. Rory had set the basket down and pulled out a checked blanket for them to sit on. Amy and the Doctor had watched, amused, as he attempted to get it spread out without it blowing away in the steady breeze. Finally she'd taken pity on him and moved to help. The Doctor had followed suit and with the two of them at opposite ends, they'd managed to tame the blanket. Rory had settled the basket in its center and started to unload their meal. First he lifted out a plate piled high with sandwiches. Next came a tray of deviled eggs, then a tin of biscuits. Last, he brought out three thermoses and passed them around. Amy took the one he offered her, staring at the spread. She dropped onto the blanket, shaking her head.

"Were you expecting company?" she asked, reaching over to un-wrap the sandwich platter. Rory paused in uncovering the eggs to look at her, his face flushing a little.

"I didn't know how long we'd be here and I wanted to make sure we had enough," he said, glancing at the Doctor. The Time Lord had unscrewed the top of his thermos and was pouring out a cup of tea. He took a sip and smiled in satisfaction.

"Mmm, Earl Grey. Love Earl Grey," he said. "Now, what have we here?" He leaned over to investigate the sandwiches. Amy shook her head again before selecting a sandwich of her own. When she poured out a cup of tea from her thermos, she found that it was her favorite Darjeeling. She looked up at Rory in appreciation and found him asking the Doctor something about the planet they were visiting. The Doctor smiled, rubbing his hands together, and she bit back a sigh as her gratitude faded. _Now he's done it_ , she thought. She knew that look. They were about to get a lecture.

Amy only half-listened as the Doctor explained that the planet they were on was one of many Earth-like planets in the galaxy. This particular one was close to being a twin to Earth, despite being millions of light-years away. The people here were very similar to humans and in many ways the planet's history paralleled Earth's. Amy snorted at that, earning herself a sharp look from the Doctor. She reached for a sandwich to hide her smirk. He had the whole of time and space to choose from and where did he take them? To a planet virtually identical to their own. She bit back another snort and shook her head. The man did not make sense.

When they'd finished their picnic, Rory had repacked the basket. There were still plenty of sandwiches left and Amy knew her thermos was still half-full. She wondered how long the Doctor intended to wander. Perhaps they'd be eating more sandwiches at tea-time.

"Doctor," she asked, panting a little as they moved down the hill, "where are we going?"

"Nowhere in particular,"the Doctor replied. "I just thought it'd be nice to stretch our legs a bit."

"They didn't get stretched enough on Starbase 115?" Rory asked, huffing as he shifted the basket from one hand to the other. "You know, when we were running for our lives?"

"That was different," the Doctor answered.

"True," Amy said. "We've no need to be running now." She came to a stop and Rory bumped in to her.

"What are you doing?" he wheezed.

"Slowing down," she replied. "Nothing's chasing us today. We don't need to be in such a rush."

"Right." Rory bobbed his head in agreement, slowing his steps to match her pace. The Doctor continued to stride ahead but Amy wasn't concerned as he was still in sight. Now that she wasn't rushing, she could take in more of the scenery they were passing. She realized for the first time that the grass on this planet seemed to be a darker shade of green than on Earth. The blue of the sky was different too, almost turquoise at times. She'd just crouched to look at a sparkling rock, wondering if it was similar to quartz, when she heard the Doctor call to them. She looked up to see him about twenty-five yards ahead of them. He waved and she lifted her hand to return it. Suddenly he lurched, his wave turning into a desperate attempt to regain his balance. For an instant he seemed to hang where he was, and then he dropped from sight.

"Doctor!" Rory charged forward, the picnic basket banging against his leg, and Amy dashed after him. Despite his burden, Rory managed to stay ahead of her. When he stopped suddenly she nearly crashed into him. He put out his arm to catch her and she realized they were at the edge of crater.

"The Doctor…" she began and Rory pointed into the crater.

"Careful," he warned when she leaned forward. "The edge is crumbling." She moved carefully, looking down into the crater. It looked as if someone had taken a gigantic ice-cream scoop and dug out half the hill they were standing upon. The bottom appeared to be full of gravel and there, amongst the rocks, lay the Doctor. Amy felt her breath catch at the sight of him.

"Rory…"

"I know," he said grimly.

"We… we have to get down there."

"We will," Rory replied. "But we have to find a way to do it safely. We can't help him if we wind up falling too."

It took a few minutes before Rory spotted a way. Amy had paced at the top of the hill, pausing every few steps to peer down at the Doctor. She could feel her anxiety increasing. How badly was he hurt? Why couldn't Rory hurry? She was ready to snap at him when he finally told her he'd found a route they could take. She followed him as he led the way, moving around the edge of the scoop until they reached a slope that appeared traversable. Rory slid the handle the picnic basket up over his forearm and started down the hill, turning sideways to slow his descent. Amy let him get a few feet down before she moved after him.

It seemed an eternity before they finally reached the bottom of the slope. Rory got there first and stopped to wait for her. She waved him ahead impatiently. He turned and jogged the dozen or so yards to the Doctor as she finished her descent. She ran to join them the moment she was on level ground once more.

The Doctor was pale and still on the ground. A large knot was clearly visible on one temple, and Amy could see that something was wrong with his shoulder. Rory was moving his hands carefully down his sides, frowning in concentration.

"Well?" Amy asked.

"He's unconscious," Rory answered. "If he were human I'd say his right clavicle was broken. I don't know what they call it in Time Lords but something up there's broken. And he's twisted his ankle. Looks like a sprain rather than a break." With a sigh, Rory sat back on his haunches.

"So what do we do?" Amy demanded.

"Well, we probably shouldn't move him. I don't see any signs of a spinal injury but… he's not human, Amy. I'm not sure what I should be looking for."

"There must be something we can do," she protested.

"There are supplies, back on the TARDIS," Rory said, getting to his feet and turning to face her. "One of us could go get them while the other stays here with him."

 _And that_ , Amy thought, pushing herself up awkwardly with one arm, _is how you've come to be sprawled out here in the rain._ She grunted as she maneuvered into a sitting position, trying to ignore the spikes of pain from her ankle and the throbs of protest from her side. Rory was a nurse; it made sense for him to stay with the Doctor. He could monitor his condition while she made the trek back to the TARDIS to fetch the supplies. Rory had described the route to the medical bay from the console room and told her where to find a case of supplies as well as a portable stretcher. She would collect the case and stretcher, swap out her boots for a sturdier pair, and hurry back to the crater. It had seemed a simple enough task two hours ago. Even after the sun had set, she hadn't been deterred. The moonlight had been more than enough for her to see by. Now, with the mist turning to rain and her ankle in agony, the task seemed impossible.

"C'mon, Pond," she chided herself. "Rory and the Doctor are counting on you." She got her good foot beneath her and somehow managed to rise. For a moment she stood on one foot, struggling to get her bearings. Finally she took a tentative step forward. To her dismay, her ankle wouldn't hold her. She toppled to the ground once more, crying out in pain as her wrist bent beneath her.


	2. Rory

Rory paced the bottom of the crater anxiously. The sun had set nearly an hour ago and the air was growing cooler by the minute. He'd zipped his jacket up to his chin already but it wasn't enough. He looked at the Doctor, feeling his anxiety increase. The man hadn't donned anything over his tweed sports coat before leaving the TARDIS. The cold hadn't seemed to bother him as they'd trekked across the land, but it had been warmer then and they'd been moving. Rory had covered him with the picnic blanket but with the temperature dropping steadily, he knew it wasn't enough. He'd found half a book of matches in his coat pocket, left over from a long-forgotten pub crawl. If he could find something to burn, he could get a fire going. He turned and started to move across the crater's floor in search of anything flammable.

Twenty minutes later Rory was shivering, but he'd gathered a pile of twigs and branches. He stacked them carefully on the ground, forming a small pyramid out of kindling. It took a couple of attempts to get a match to stay lit long enough to catch the kindling but after a few minutes he was pleased to see flames licking up the little pyramid he'd built. He laughed in relief and reached for one of the smaller twigs, adding it carefully to the fire. It didn't take long for the fire to be burning steadily. It wasn't large but it was making heat and light. Clouds were moving across the sky, blotting out the bright moonlight, and Rory watched them. He hoped it wasn't about to rain. They had a little shelter from the wind in the crater, but the Doctor wasn't close enough to the side to get any protection from rain and Rory didn't dare move him. He wondered if Amy had reached the TARDIS yet. He hoped so; with the moon covered now she'd be trying to find her way in the dark.

"I should have brought the med kit," he muttered, looking over at the Doctor. "Then we wouldn't be in this mess." He'd put the kit together a few weeks ago, after another planetary adventure had ended early when he'd twisted his knee. Amy and the Doctor had had to help him back to the TARDIS, where the Doctor had been able to easily heal his injury with equipment in the medical bay. Rory had seen how portable most of it was and put the case together the next day. He'd intended to grab it this morning but he'd gotten distracted packing the picnic.

"So busy making sure everyone had their favorite tea," he muttered, shaking his head at himself. "Stupid." He shivered in a gust of wind and added another stick to the fire. His pile of firewood was dwindling and he realized he was going to have to go searching for more. He got stiffly to his feet and started out across the crater once more. It was slower going now that the moon was gone. He had to strain just to see well enough to keep from tripping over larger stones; searching for firewood was nearly impossible.

He was at one end of the depression, collecting a few small sticks, when he heard the hoof-beats. At least, he assumed they were hoof-beats. He froze, half-bent in the process of reaching for a stick, and stared hard across the crater. A second later he spotted the movement. The animal was moving in through an opening in the depression, almost directly opposite where the Doctor had fallen. Rory realized that his fire was clearly visible, and it was illuminating the Doctor. He let the sticks fall from his arms and started running, scrambling across the gravel-strewn ground. The horseman (at least, he assumed it was a man and that the animal was this planet's version of a horse) reached the fire's illumination first. The animal came to a stop and the man dropped down and started toward the Doctor, speaking loudly.

"You! Get up from there! You can't sleep here anymore!"

"Don't!" Rory shouted, skidding to a stop between the Doctor and the stranger. "You… mustn't… move… him," he panted. "Please."

"What?" the stranger demanded. "You can't be here. You must move along. Now."

"We can't," Rory protested. "My friend…"

"I do not care for your excuses," snapped the stranger. "Move. Now."

"You don't understand," Rory pleaded. He could see more riders entering the crater behind the stranger. Most of them seemed to stay near the entrance but two were coming their way. He hoped that one of them might be more reasonable than the man in front of him, who had gone back to shouting at the Doctor.

"What is this, Rolf?" asked one of the approaching riders and Rory started as he realized the speaker was a woman. Rolf turned from Rory and hurried to her horse.

"M'lady," he said. "This… wanderer will be gone in a few minutes."

"Now, Rolf, there's no need to be hasty," she replied, shifting on the horse. Rolf raised his arms to help her drop from the beast's back. "They were here first."

"M'lday," protested her companion, but she ignored him, moving toward Rory.

"I am sorry to inconvenience you and your friend," she said, "but my companions are a trifle overprotective." She peered around Rory toward the Doctor and frowned. "Is he alright?"

"No," Rory said. "That's what I was trying to explain to your man. I can't move him, not right now."

"What happened?" the woman asked, looking back to Rory.

"He fell," Rory said, pointing up toward the edge. "He was looking down and the ground just… crumbled."

"Rolf, fetch the physician," the woman said, turning worried eyes back to the Doctor.

"M'lady…"

"At once."

"Yes, m'lady." Rolf moved away and the woman looked back to Rory. Her face was heart-shaped, with wide dark eyes, a narrow nose, and a Cupid's bow mouth. Rory wouldn't have called her pretty but there was something striking about her. She was dressed in a long skirt and jacket over a high-necked blouse. In the dim glow from the fire it was hard to tell what color her clothing was, but the material of her blouse seemed to catch and reflect the light. Her hair was gathered into a chignon at the nape of her neck and a small hat rested on top of her head, decorated with a single long feather.

"You aren't hurt yourself?" she asked. Rory shook his head.

"My wife and I came down a slope, over there," he said, pointing toward the incline.

"And where is your wife now?" demanded the man still on horseback. "She needn't hide from us."

"She's not here," Rory said. "She went back to our… vessel to get medical supplies. I stayed here to look after our friend."

"Your wife is a very brave woman," said the man drily. Rory felt his face flame.

"She is," he said quickly, "but that's not why she went. I'm a nur… I have some medical training. That's why we thought it made more sense for me to stay here."

"Very wise," spoke up the woman. "You and your wife obviously are both brave and sensible. Tell me, what is your name?"

"Rory. Rory Williams."

"And your wife?"

"Amelia. Amy. Pond. Our friend is called the Doctor."

"Is he a physician?"

"Not exactly. He's a doctor of… other things."

"M'lady, the physician is coming." Rolf stepped into the fire-light once more, frowning at Rory.

"Good. You may tell the others to prepare camp."

"M'lady?" Rolf stared hard at Rory and the woman smiled.

"This is Master Williams and his friend is called the Doctor. They will be welcome in our camp tonight."

"Yes, M'lady." Rolf gave a stiff bow before turning away.

"I'm sorry," Rory said, feeling his face growing warm again. "It's just he can't be moved right now and my wife will return here to find us."

"It's quite alright, Master Williams," the woman replied, smiling at him. "I understand. I will direct our physician to follow your instructions. I hope he'll be able to help you."

"Thank you," Rory said. He turned back to the Doctor and the woman's companion got down from his horse, stepping over to say something to her. She shook her head.

"No, Geoff. I've made my decision."

"Very well. M'lady." Geoff stepped away, murmuring something to his horse. For the first time Rory realized that the animals really did look like horses. _Well_ , he thought, _why not? The people look like people too. The Doctor did say that this planet is a twin to Earth._

A low groan made Rory turn his attention back to the Doctor. The Time Lord was stirring, shifting slightly on the ground.

"Easy," Rory told him, reaching out to touch his uninjured shoulder. "Keep still." The Doctor opened his eyes and blinked up at him, seeming to have trouble focusing.

"What… what happened?" he asked thickly.

"You fell," Rory said. "You were waving at Amy and I up on the cliff and then the edge must have crumbled. You've been unconscious for several hours and I think you've broken your collar-bone. Or your equivalent of a collar-bone."

"That explains the pain," the Doctor muttered, his face twisted into a grimace. "What have I done to my ankle?"

"I think it's just a sprain," Rory told him.

"Where's Amy?"

"She went back to the TARDIS to get the med kit. I, uh, forgot to bring it this morning."

"Ah."

"We should do some checks," Rory said, holding out one hand. "How many fingers am I holding up?" The Doctor squinted up at him for what seemed like a long time.

"Three?"

"You're supposed to tell me, not ask me," Rory protested.

"Things are a little… blurry," the Doctor replied. "Are there… people over there?" He started to lift his good arm to point but Rory stopped him.

"Yes. They arrived a little while ago and are setting up a camp. We've been invited to join them."

"Good work, Rory," the Doctor murmured. His eyes started to slip shut and Rory gave his arm a squeeze.

"Stay with me, Doctor," he urged. With a grunt, the Doctor opened his eyes and squinted up at him.

"'M awake," he muttered.

"Good. Just hang on for a few more minutes, ok?" Rory moved down to the Doctor's feet, lifting the blanket and reaching for one shoe.

"Master Williams?" Rory looked up to see a large man in doublet and hose waddling toward him. "I am Doctor Andrews. Her majesty asked me to assist you with your friend."

"Her majesty?" Rory asked, looking toward the woman. She had moved a few feet away and was talking intently with the man called Geoff. "She's a… queen?"

"Yes, Queen Anne." Andrews' face flushed. "I… I thought… You didn't know?"

"Oh, goody," slurred the Doctor. "A queen!"

"Oh dear. I really shouldn't have said anything," Andrews said, wringing his plump hands. "Her majesty is travelling incognito."

"With all you lot accompanying her? Not likely," scoffed the Doctor.

"I see that your friend is awake," Andrews said tersely, shooting a glare at the Time Lord. "That's a good sign."

"Maybe," Rory muttered. He reached for the Doctor's shoe and eased it off. "Wiggle your toes for me, Doctor."

"My toes?" asked Andrews. "What sort of medicine is this?"

"Not you," Rory said, fighting back irritation. "Him. I want to see if he has sensation in his feet." Unfortunately the Doctor didn't seem to hear the request; he had started to sing something under his breath. Rory was only catching every third word but after a moment he realized that the song reminded him of something. A moment later he realized that what it reminded him of was reading _Canterbury Tales_ at school. He wasn't sure if he thought of Chaucer because the song was in Middle English or because it was raunchy. Either way, it didn't seem an appropriate thing to sing in the presence of a queen.

"Doctor," he hissed. "Stop singing that. Please." To his relief, the Doctor ceased singing, opting to hum instead. "That's better. Now, please, move your toes for me."

"Ok. Toes," the Doctor mumbled. "Here we go."


	3. The Doctor

The Doctor had been awake early. He was always awake early, no matter how tiring the previous day had been. He didn't question it anymore; if he was awake, he wasn't dreaming, and if he wasn't dreaming then he didn't have to remember. There was always something to distract him if he looked hard enough. He'd dressed, taking a few minutes to get his burgundy bow-tie perfectly straight, and headed for the console room. Surely there was something there he could fiddle with until Amy and Rory were up. Then they could settle on a place to visit.

By the time his companions arrived, he'd grown tired of tinkering and was scrolling through the TARDIS' data-banks in search of a destination. Despite the massive space of the TARDIS, he was feeling closed-in and restless. He wanted to walk under a warm sun and breathe in the air of a planet. His first thought was of returning to Earth – there was something soothing about the feel of that planet turning beneath his feet - but he knew Amy would object. She'd want something more… exotic. He'd finally settled on an Earth-like planet. Amy had pouted a bit when he described it, but Rory had nodded his agreement. The Doctor knew Amy had been hoping for more of an adventure. He was sorry to disappoint her, but after their last few stops, he felt the need for a change. He'd never thought he'd say it, but he was tired of running, tired of figuring out how to save everyone from almost-certain death. He needed a change, just for a day. They could go back to running and saving the universe tomorrow.

Their visit had started out well. The TARDIS had landed in a remote area, a good distance from any settlements. Rory had packed a picnic for them, and once he and Amy had donned jackets, they set out. The Doctor led the way, enjoying the scenery as they hiked along. He could feel the turning of the world beneath his feet and the warmth the sun. It was all very Earth-like, but there was something in the air that made this place unique. There always was, come to think of it. Each planet had its own unique… smell. He'd smiled at the thought, feeling refreshed already.

The picnic had been very nice. Rory had outdone himself, bringing everyone's favorite tea and sandwiches not to mention the devilled eggs. They'd sat on top of a hill, on a proper red-and-white checked picnic blanket, and when they'd finished eating, the Doctor had told his companions a little about the planet they were visiting. Rory had listened attentively, but Amy had seemed bored. She hadn't complained, but he'd seen it in her face. _She thinks you're daft, choosing a place so much like Earth_ thought the Doctor. _Maybe one day she'll come to appreciate having a home to return to._ He pushed the thought away, suppressing a shudder. _Don't wish that on her_ , he chided himself.

After lunch they'd set out again. Amy and Rory had lagged behind but the Doctor hadn't wanted to slow down. He'd set a brisk pace, enjoying the simple act of walking. He concentrated on that, keeping his thoughts under control. It was comforting to know that the Ponds were back there, following him; he was alone and yet, he wasn't. It felt good. _This was just what I needed_ , he thought. _Tomorrow I'll find Amelia an adventure but for today this is perfect._ He hummed as he walked along, feeling his spirits lifting with each step.

It was almost tea-time when things went wrong. He'd reached the top of a hill only to find a drop-off. He peered down into the crater, wondering what might have caused the depression. It looked as if something had scooped away half the hill. He puzzled over it for a moment before turning to wave at his companions. He saw Amy studying something on the ground. She stood up to return his wave and then he felt the ground move beneath his foot. He tried to regain his balance to no avail. He was falling and there was nothing to catch on to. Blackness took him.

The next thing the Doctor was aware of was pain. It was radiating from his right shoulder and all down his side. There were other aches coming from his ribs, all but drowned out by the searing pain from his shoulder. His left ankle had something to say as well, though that pain was even fainter in comparison with the others. As he came more awake, he realized that the mother of all pains was coming from his head. He tried, and failed, to bite back a groan.

"Easy," chided a familiar voice just as a warm hand settled on his pain-free shoulder. "Keep still." _Rory_ , thought the Doctor. He opened his eyes to confirm it but it was dark now and his vision was blurred. He blinked a couple of times, hoping it would clear. No such luck. Two blurry, and worried, Rory faces came into view, briefly morphing in to one before separating again.

"What… what happened?" the Doctor asked thickly. Someone was missing, but he couldn't think who. Then Rory spoke and he remembered. _Amelia._

"You fell. You were waving at Amy and I up on the cliff and then the edge must have crumbled. You've been unconscious for several hours and I think you've broken your collar-bone. Or your equivalent of a collar-bone." The Doctor nearly smirked at that, but he hurt too much.

"That explains the pain," he said, momentarily distracted from concerns about Amy. "What have I done to my ankle?"

"I think it's just a sprain." _Sprain, pain, Pond._

"Where's Amy?" the Doctor asked.

"She went back to the TARDIS to get the med kit." Rory sounded sheepish. "I, uh, forgot to bring it this morning."

"Ah." The Doctor didn't suppose reminding him how he'd remembered everyone's favorite tea would be of much comfort right now so he kept silent. _The devilled eggs were nice too_ , he thought _. I think they're my new favorite…_ His companion spoke, derailing his train of thought.

"We should do some checks. How many fingers am I holding up?" Rory moved his hand into the Doctor's line of vision. He squinted up at it, trying to figure out how many digits the young man had extended. He tried to concentrate but the image kept wavering. _Most humans have only five fingers per hand_ , he reminded himself, staring at the floating digits. _You must be seeing double…_

"Three?" he suggested.

"You're supposed to tell me, not ask me," Rory protested.

"Things are a little… blurry," the Doctor admitted. Sounds were reaching him, of horses and people conversing. He wanted to turn his head but he knew it would hurt. "Are there… people over there?" Rory put a hand on his arm to stop him from pointing and the Doctor realized that in addition to hurting, he was chilled. Rory's hand felt very warm, even through the material of his jacket.

"Yes. They arrived a little while ago and are setting up a camp. We've been invited to join them." The Doctor smiled.

"Good work, Rory," he murmured. It was getting harder to keep his eyes open. When they started to shut, Rory squeezed his arm.

"Stay with me, Doctor," he urged.

"'M awake," the Doctor muttered, snapping his eyes open once more.

"Good. Just hang on for a few more minutes, ok?" Rory moved away and a moment later the Doctor felt hands on his uninjured ankle.

"Master Williams?" They both started at the voice, Rory's hands dropping away from his ankle. The Doctor turned his head slightly and made out a blurry image of a large man in Tudor-style dress approaching. "I am Doctor Andrews. Her majesty asked me to assist you with your friend."

"Her majesty?" Rory asked, sounding surprised. "She's a… queen?" _Oh-ho!_ thought the Doctor. _Charming royalty, Rory Williams? What till Amy finds out!_

"Yes, Queen Anne. I… I thought… You didn't know?"

"Oh, goody," the Doctor murmured. "A queen!" He knew he shouldn't be amused; queens meant courts and courts were nearly always trouble. He wanted to warn Rory but the portly man was whining and wringing his hands.

"Oh dear. I really shouldn't have said anything. Her majesty is travelling incognito."

"With all you lot accompanying her?" asked the Doctor, biting back a snicker. "Not likely." There was something nagging at him, something serious that he needed to say, but he couldn't remember what it was. He was having trouble holding on to a thought for very long. He tried to concentrate; he needed to talk to Rory. He could hear the younger man speaking with Andrews and grimaced. The portly man's voice made his head hurt more. An old Earth song sprang to mind and he began to sing it softly, feeling pleased when he was able to drown out the talking with it. It wasn't until Rory protested that he realized the young man had been speaking to him. He stopped singing, settling for humming the tune instead.

"Now, please," Rory coaxed, "move your toes for me."

"Ok. Toes. Here we go." The Doctor concentrated and felt the digits moving. He heard Rory's sigh of relief and echoed it.

Moving toes were good, but apparently not enough for Rory. The Doctor struggled to stay alert as the young man moved on to check his fingers, confirming that he was able to move them as well. He was also able to follow Rory's finger with his eyes. He was relieved to realize that the double-vision was gone; the digit was blurry but there was only one to watch. He shared this news with Rory, who managed a grim smile. It was obvious that he was still worried.

By the time the tests were finished, the Doctor felt weak and very tired. The chill from the ground seemed to be soaking into him, making his bones ache. He shut his eyes, shivering a little under the picnic blanket, and wondered where Amy could be. He was vaguely aware of voices coming closer to him, and then hands were touching his good shoulder, waist, and knees. He wanted to open his eyes but the lids felt so heavy. The next thing he knew he was being lifted into the air. Pain shot through him and it took him a moment to realize he'd been settled onto something soft. Blankets were draped around him and then the voices seemed to move away, leaving him alone with the sensation of Rory's hand resting gently on his good shoulder. After a few minutes the flare of pain he'd experienced faded, leaving him able to appreciate how much more comfortable he was on this new surface. The chill he'd felt on the ground was subsiding and some of the pain from his shoulder and side were going with it.

"You'll be alright, Doctor," Rory murmured. "Amy will be on her way back by now with the med kit. We'll get you fixed up in no time." The Doctor wanted to nod or say something reassuring – he could feel Rory's anxiety coming off of him in waves – but he couldn't seem to find the energy. He knew there was something else, something he'd meant to tell Rory, but he could feel himself sinking into the bedding, drifting away from the rest of world into a cocoon of warmth and softness. He didn't fight it.


	4. Anne (the queen)

Anne Elizabeth Ormond, queen-consort to the late King Henry and regent of the sovereign realm of Umbria, shifted impatiently on her horse. From the beginning her trip had not gone as she'd wanted, and that continued tonight. They'd reached the crater where they'd intended to camp a few minutes ago only to find a small fire burning and a man sleeping beside it. Anne had briefly considered moving on but with the winds picking up and clouds blotting out the moon, her entourage needed to make camp. The crater would provide shelter from the worst of the winds and if they moved quickly, they could get their tents set up before the rains came. She'd reluctantly concluded that they'd have to ask the stranger to move on. The captain of her royal guards had gone forward to speak to the man, leaving the rest of the party to wait at the entrance to the crater.

Anne knew if she looked back she'd see a trail of horses and wagons stretching out behind her. Over three dozen people had accompanied her on her journey. It was a far cry from what she'd intended when she'd first contemplated this trip. She'd wanted to visit her son, who stayed on one of the royal estates in the country. She'd thought she'd take a small party with her, perhaps a half-dozen people all together. They could move quickly, making the ride from the royal palace to the estate at Stoketon in a day, and spend a week with her son before returning to her duties at the palace. With her plan firmly in mind, she'd gone to her secretary to have him make the arrangements. _And that_ , she thought bitterly, _is when you were reminded once more of how little power a queen truly has._ Her secretary had spoken with the captain of the royal guards, who had objected to Anne's proposal of taking along just three of his men. He'd insisted she needed at least twice that many. Her brother, who sat waiting with her now on his horse, had learned of the trip and demanded to accompany her as well. Things had snowballed from there as various nobles learned of her plans and asked to join her party. Before she knew it, her retinue had swelled to five times the original size. There were guards, courtiers, and nearly a dozen servants. With so many riders of varying skills now accompanying her, it became impossible to make the trip in a single day as she'd originally planned. Tents were ordered, which meant wagons were needed to carry them and servants to set them up. Her escort expanded again. _And we got slower and slower_ , Anne thought. _Not to mention far less subtle._

She turned her attention back to watching her captain, Lord Eckhart, approach the stranger in the crater. He had just shouted at the man to get up when another stranger appeared out of the darkness, running up to intervene. For a second Anne was afraid he would strike her man, but she realized that he wasn't threatening him but pleading with him.

"Oh for pity's sake," Anne murmured, shaking her head as the last of her patience faded. "What harm can two vagabonds do when I'm surrounded by this lot?" She started her horse forward.

"Sister!" protested Geoff, moving with her. Anne shot him a look and he sighed. "M'lady, this seems unwise."

"Nonsense, Geoff. I have both you and Rolf to protect me." Anne nudged her horse to go faster and her brother growled before following suit. The stranger was pleading with Rolf when Anne and Geoff trotted up.

"You don't understand," he was saying. Rolf was ignoring him, instead calling upon the other man to get up. Anne looked at the stranger on the ground, frowning as she took in his pained appearance. His eyes were shut and, despite being covered with a checked blanket, he was shivering.

"What is this, Rolf?" she asked, speaking loud enough to be heard over the commotion. Her captain turned quickly, alarmed by her presence. The protesting stranger stopped speaking as well, staring up at her in surprise.

"M'lady," Rolf stammered. "This… wanderer will be gone in a few minutes."

"Now, Rolf, there's no need to be hasty," Anne replied. She shifted on her horse and he came forward to help her down. "They were here first."

"M'lday." Geoff objected, either to her dismounting or her refusal to insist the strangers be moved on. Anne ignored him, turning her attention to the nervous young man waiting beside Rolf. In the dim light of the fire she could see that he had a sharp nose, short hair, and dark eyes.

"I am sorry to inconvenience you and your friend but my companions are a trifle overprotective," she told him, looking around to study the man on the ground again. "Is he alright?"

"No," the stranger said, his voice strained. "That's what I was trying to explain to your man. I can't move him, not right now."

"What happened?" Anne shifted her gaze back to him, taking in the lines of tension around his eyes. He was obviously very worried.

The stranger pointed up toward the edge of the cliff above. "He fell. He was looking down and the ground just… crumbled." Anne gasped, taking in the distance the other man had dropped.

"Rolf, fetch the physician," she ordered, turning her gaze back to the injured man. _It's a miracle he's still alive_ , she thought. _Poor man!_

"M'lady…"

"At once," Anne commanded, not taking her gaze off the man on the ground. She could hear Rolf moving away and once she was certain he was on his way, she looked back to the other stranger.

"You aren't hurt yourself?" she asked, looking him over. He was shivering a little in his unusual clothes, but he appeared unharmed.

"My wife and I came down a slope, over there," he said, pointing toward one side of the crater.

"And where is your wife now?" asked Geoff sharply. "She needn't hide from us."

"She's not here. She went back to our… vessel to get medical supplies. I stayed here to look after our friend."

"Your wife is a very brave woman," Geoff replied acerbically. Anne bit back a sigh at his tone but the stranger wasn't cowed.

"She is," he replied, "but that's not why she went. I'm a nur… I have some medical training. That's why we thought it made more sense for me to stay here."

"Very wise," Anne said, shooting a warning glare at Geoff. "You and your wife obviously are both brave and sensible. Tell me, what is your name?"

"Rory. Rory Williams."

"And your wife?"

"Amelia. Amy. Pond. Our friend is called the Doctor."

Anne arched a brow at the name. "Is he a physician?"

"Not exactly." Rory Williams said, frowning. "He's a doctor of… other things." Anne wanted to ask what other things, but Rolf was returning.

"M'lady, the physician is coming," he said, keeping a wary eye on Williams.

"Good," Anne said. "You may tell the others to prepare camp."

"M'lady?" Rolf kept his eyes on Williams, who was looking increasingly apprehensive.

"This is Master Williams and his friend is called the Doctor," Anne told Rolf. "They will be welcome in our camp tonight."

"Yes, M'lady." Rolf pulled his eyes away, bowing to Anne before turning away to start directing the set up. Anne looked back to Williams and he gave her a nervous smile.

"I'm sorry," he said anxiously. "It's just he can't be moved right now and my wife will return here to find us."

"It's quite alright, Master Williams," Anne assured him. "I understand. I will direct our physician to follow your instructions. I hope he'll be able to help you."

"Thank you." Williams returned her smile for a moment before moving to his friend. Anne stepped over to the horses as Geoff dismounted.

"Sis… M'lady, perhaps you should reconsider…"

Anne cut him off with a shake of her head. "No, Geoff. I've made my decision."

"Very well. M'lady." Geoff moved away, clearly displeased, and Anne bit back a sigh. She wasn't sure if he objected to the decision itself or to her making it without consulting with him first. Her fuming speculation was cut off a moment later when she saw Rolf lift his hand to wave. She moved to meet him, leaving Geoff to look after her horse.

The next hour was taken up with the hustle and bustle of getting the camp set up. The winds were kicking up above the crater and Anne could smell the coming rain. Men moved quickly, getting tents set up and tending to horses. Anne's tent was the first completed, but before she went inside she spoke to Rolf.

"I would like to provide a tent for our guests," she told him. "Can you arrange it?"

"They can use my tent, M'lady," Rolf said without hesitation.

"That's most generous of you," Anne told him. "Thank you."

"I will see to the arrangements." Rolf bowed once more before turning to return to his men. Anne watched as he crossed to the strangers. Williams was sitting on a stool now, and the man called the Doctor had been moved onto a cot.

"M'lady?" Anne turned to find one of her ladies, a woman called Nell, dropping into a curtsey. "Your tent is prepared." As much as she wanted to stay where she was and observe the rest of the set-up, Anne realized that at least one of her attendants would have to remain with her. With a sigh she nodded and turned toward her tent.

A short time later, Anne had changed from her travelling clothes to a loose robe. One of her ladies had brushed out her hair, using jeweled combs to lift it off her face. Nell had gone to see about supper and Anne was restless. She could hear the sound of the wind outside increasing, but so far the rain had held off. She went to the tent door and stared out at the crowded crater floor. She shook her head at the size of the tent city, thinking ruefully of her original plan for a small party. _All I wanted was to see Arthur_ , she thought, smiling a little at the thought of her son. Each time she saw him he looked more like his father. He had the same coloring, the same eyes, and the same jaw-line. Even his facial expressions reminded her of the late king. _He should grow into a handsome man._ She felt a flare of pride at the thought, but it was short-lived. There was one glaring difference between Henry and his son. While Henry had been an athletic man, pursuing every sport suitable for a man of his station (and a few that weren't), Arthur had difficulty even walking. One of his legs was withered, forcing him to use a crutch. Anne had consulted physicians and priests, but none of them had a solution to offer her.

Her eyes were drawn to the tent that would have been Lord Eckhart's, where her unexpected guests were staying. It had been a long time since she'd met anyone by chance. From the moment she came to court, nearly ten years ago, her every encounter had been carefully orchestrated. Her father had seen to it that she met people who might help their family advance their standing. Once she was queen, she'd met courtiers and diplomats from foreign lands. Even her ladies in waiting were chosen by design, the positions offered as favors to prominent families. Anne found herself wondering what it would be like to speak with Rory Williams and his friend, the Doctor. Williams said he had medical training. _Perhaps…_ Anne shook her head, trying to chase away the thought.

By the time Nell returned with her supper, Anne had come to a decision. She would take her meal across to Eckhart's tent and dine with Rory Williams and the Doctor.


	5. Amy

For a few minutes Amy lay still on the ground. The rain was pounding down now and she could feel water running around her neck to her chin, mingling with her tears. Her ankle was white-hot with pain, her shoulder was aching, and now one wrist stung as well. Her hair was getting soaked and water was wicking away from her collar and down her shirt-front. Her teeth were beginning to chatter as a chill spread through her.

"C'mon, Pond," she chided herself. "You can do this. You have to do this. Rory and the Doctor are counting on you." She shifted on the ground, getting her good arm beneath her to push up with. She made it to her knees and stopped, peering out in the darkness. She'd thought she heard something, but with the rain increasing in intensity she wasn't sure. She'd just managed to get her uninjured foot beneath her when she heard it again – the sound of approaching hooves. They seemed to be coming from somewhere to her left and she turned her head, trying to see through the driving rain. The sound grew louder but she still couldn't see anything.

When the horse finally appeared it was so sudden, and so close, that Amy couldn't stop herself from screaming. She tried to dive out of the way, pushing off with her good leg. She was dimly aware of someone shouting and the animal whinnying. Then she hit the ground, knocking her breath out of her, and all she could think about was the burning in her chest as she struggled for air. She could hear someone talking and then she felt hands on her shoulders. She tried to shrug them off but she didn't have any strength. Someone scooped her up and carried her a short distance before passing her to another pair of strong hands. She realized she was on horse-back, held in place by someone. She tried to see who held her, but he was hooded against the rain. The horse started to move and Amy wanted to protest, but she still didn't have breath enough to speak. She started when the man leaned forward, wanting to pull away, but there was nowhere to go.

"Don't worry," said a gruff voice. "We're taking you someplace safe, out of the rain." Amy tried to ask the man who he was, but she could barely manage a whisper. She felt herself starting to panic as the horse picked up speed. She was in the arms of a stranger, on horseback, and she was certain they were taking her away from the TARDIS. She started to struggle and the man gripped her more tightly, crushing her against him.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, "but if you keep struggling you're going to fall. It's hard enough to hold on to you when you're still."

"Where… where are we going?" Amy asked, getting her voice back at last.

"There's a manor house nearby," the man replied. "We can take shelter there."

"But…," Amy started to protest but her teeth were chattering. She stopped, huddling in the man's arms as the rain lashed at her. She shuddered, imagining Rory and the Doctor caught in this weather down in the crater. How would they manage?

By the time the lights of the manor house came in to view, Amy was soaked to the skin and she couldn't stop shivering. The men moved through a gate into a courtyard. Cloaked people were waiting near a doorway. A few ran out to meet the horses. The man who held Amy handed her down to one of them, who turned and ran toward the doorway. The people there parted, letting him bring her in. Amy could hear a babble of voices as they moved past the crowd.

"She's soaking wet, poor thing," said one woman's voice.

"What _is_ she wearing?" asked another voice.

"Her hair is so red…"

"Can you stand?" It took Amy a second to realize that this last question was addressed to her by the man who held her.

"'Course I can," she answered, trying to sound forceful. The effect was spoiled by her uncontrollable shivering and chattering teeth. She couldn't see the man's face due to his hood but she imagined his expression was skeptical; still, he carefully lowered her legs so she could stand. Once she was balanced, he moved away. Amy flipped her wet hair out of her face and watched as he stepped back outside. She turned from the door to survey her surroundings. She stood in a wide stone corridor, lit by several torches. The stone of the walls seemed to catch and reflect the light, casting the whole area in a golden glow. A doorway behind her led out into the court-yard. Her view of the door at the opposite end was blocked by a small group of people staring at her. There were four women, all clad in Tudor-style dress. One woman stood out from the rest. Her dark gown was decorated with pearls, and she wore a gold band set with more pearls in her gray-streaked blonde hair. For a minute she held Amy's gaze, then she turned her steely eyes toward the outside door. Amy followed suit, turning in time to see two cloaked men step inside. They threw back their hoods, revealing their faces. The younger of the two caught her eye first. His dark brown hair was close-cropped and his eyes were pale blue. His companion was older and had added a beard to the same short hair-style. His hair was black and his eyes a more vibrant shade of blue. The pearl-clad woman moved forward to address him and Amy switched her attention back to her.

"Good evening, Lord Grist," the woman said, dipping into a curtsey.

"Lady Harrow," returned the man, giving a half-bow as Amy switched her gaze to him. "I apologize for this intrusion but as you can see, it is quite impossible for us to travel any further tonight." Amy realized that he was the man who'd held her on his horse. His tone was more polite here than it had been outside. She looked back to Lady Harrow, feeling a bit like she was watching a tennis match.

"Of course. You may shelter here this evening. I will have rooms prepared for your party shortly." Lady Harrow glanced at Amy, arching a brow at Lord Grist. "Who is she?"

" _She_ is standin' right here," Amy said, drawing herself up as best she could with only one good foot to balance on. She switched her glare to Lord Grist as he spoke.

"We came upon this person out on the plains," he replied, addressing Lady Harrow as if Amy hadn't spoken.

"You almost trampled me," Amy snapped, forgetting her chill as irritation surged through her. Neither party looked at her, though she thought she saw a glint of amusement in Grist's eyes.

"It is true," he said. "We didn't see her until we were almost upon her. Under the circumstances, I thought it best to bring her with us lest she trip up some other traveler."

"Oi!"

"I suppose there wasn't really any other choice," Lady Harrow said, talking over Amy's objection. "We'll find someplace for her."

"You're most kind, Lady Harrow," Grist said, giving another half-bow. Lady Harrow nodded once and turned away, speaking to one of the women in the hall. The group began to move away as the woman assigned them tasks. Amy kept her eyes on Grist. He said something softly to the man beside him before turning to catch her gaze. She started to fold her arms across her chest, trying to look stern, but she lost her balance and had to reach out to catch herself on the wall. Grist's lips twitched into a half-smile and he stepped toward her, shrugging out of his cloak and draping it around her shoulders.

"Allow me to assist you," he said, reaching to catch her elbow. Amy wanted to pull away but feared she wouldn't be able to keep her balance if she did.

"So now I exist again," she muttered, looking away from his twinkling eyes.

"You always did," Gris replied, sounding amused. When Amy continued to frown, he went on. "You'll have to excuse Lady Harrow. She is very conscious of… position."

"I was ready to show her a position," Amy muttered. Grist laughed, the sound echoing in the small hall. "You are a most interesting woman. Would you do me the favor of telling me your name?"

"It's Amy. Amy Pond."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mistress Pond," he said, giving her a half-bow. "I am Randolph Mercutio Grist."

"Nice to meet you," Amy said, wincing as she tried to shift position. Her good foot was aching from bearing all her weight.

"Come, let's find you a place to sit." Grist moved his arm around her and after a moment, Amy leaned on it.

"You don't think we'll offend Lady Harrow?" she asked, huffing out the words as she hopped along beside him. She gave a startled yelp when he shifted his arm, scooping her up and carrying her down the corridor and into a large room.

"You can't keep standing on one foot," he answered easily, not the least winded by bearing her weight. Amy stared at him in surprise as he crossed the large room they'd entered, moving toward a fireplace at the opposite end where a fire was blazing. He settled her on a wooden bench near the hearth and took a step back. Amy turned away from him to look around the high-ceilinged room. There were tables and benches lined up down the center of the room and tapestries hung on the walls, mostly depicting hunting scenes. There was another fireplace at the opposite end from this one, though the fire there was much smaller. She could feel the heat from this fire blasting her and she shrugged off the cloak Grist had draped about her as her shivering stopped.

"Blimey," she murmured. "What is this place?"

"We are in the reception and banqueting hall of his majesty's manor house at Stroketon."

"His majesty?"

"Our late king, Henry, used this manor primarily as a hunting lodge."

"What's it used for now?" Amy asked, glancing around once more.

"It remains royal property," Grist replied evasively. Amy looked at him sharply. She was about to press for more information when one of the women from the hall approached.

"Your quarters are ready, Lord Grist," she said, dipping into a low curtsey.

"Thank you. I will wait with Mistress Pond until her chamber is prepared."

"As you wish." The woman bobbed once more, shooting a speculative look at Amy before moving away. Amy sighed.

"You cannot blame them for their curiosity," Grist said, moving to sit on the bench. "Your attire is… unique. I confess that your accent also is puzzling. I can't quite place it." He looked at her questioningly and Amy fidgeted, tugging on her skirt.

"I'm… not from around here," she muttered, dropping her gaze.

"I guessed that," Grist said, sounding amused.

"It would be… difficult to explain," Amy told him, looking up to meet his gaze. "I promise I'm not here to cause any harm." Grist studied her; after a moment he smiled and nodded.

"I'm prepared to trust you," he said.

"Thank you." Amy smiled back at him, feeling relieved.

"Would it be too difficult for you to tell me how you came to be out in the storm tonight?" Grist's question shattered Amy's relief, reminding her of what she'd been trying to accomplish. She felt her heart start to race, remembering the Doctor's still form lying at the bottom of the crater and Rory's worried face. Her heart-rated increased, thinking of the storm outside. All Rory had with him was their picnic basket. What was he doing for shelter? Had the Doctor regained consciousness? Was he in pain? _Rory must be worried sick by now_ , she thought. _He's trying to care for the Doctor and now I'm missing_ …

"Mistress Pond?" Grist's gentle voice broke in on her racing thoughts. Amy looked up at him.

"I need to go back," she said, shifting on the bench.

"You can't go now," he replied. "The storm…"

"My husband and my friend are out in that storm," Amy said, her voice rising as she grew more alarmed. "Our friend is hurt. I have to get them some help!" She rose on her good foot, struggling to keep her balance, and Grist stood too. He reached out to catch her as she wobbled.

"You cannot help them tonight," he said firmly.


	6. Rory

Once he'd finished his checks, Rory had agreed to let the queen's people move the Doctor. As concerned as he was about aggravating the Doctor's injuries, he knew they needed to get him off the cold ground. The Time Lord had started shivering, his face twisting into a grimace with each tremble. Several men had come forward and he'd pointed out the injuries to them. They'd lifted the Doctor carefully and Rory winced, imagining how painful being moved must be. The Doctor hadn't cried out, but his face had gone paler. The men settled him on a cot and covered him with quilts, offering one to Rory as well. He wrapped it around himself, grateful for the extra layer of warmth. Someone put a short stool beside the cot and Rory sat there, keeping one hand on the Doctor's good shoulder as he watched the activity around them.

There were at least three dozen people moving about the crater floor now. Two groups of men were working together and he realized they were erecting pavilion-style tents. _Someone doesn't understand the concept of packing light_ , he thought, chuckling softly as he remembered the way the Doctor had scoffed when Andrews said the queen was travelling incognito.

"You were right," he murmured, glancing at his patient. "This is definitely not subtle." The Doctor didn't respond. Rory took a moment to study him, relieved to find that his breathing was steady and that he was no longer shivering. Rory hugged his quilt tighter about himself and squinted up at the sky, wondering where Amy was. He hoped she'd made it to the TARDIS. For a moment he wished he had his cell phone, before he reminded himself that it couldn't possibly work here. _Hard to get a signal from a million light-years away_ , he reminded himself.

"Master Williams?" Rory looked up to see Rolf approaching. "Your tent is ready." He gestured to a near-by pavilion and Rory got to his feet.

"My tent?" he asked, looking back to the man.

"Yes," Rolf replied. Rory turned to stare at the tent, astonished at its size. When the queen had said he and the Doctor could join her camp tonight, he'd never expected to be provided with a tent, let alone one as large as this. More men approached and Rolf waved them toward the Doctor. Rory stepped back as they lifted the cot. They carried it toward the tent and Rolf reached around him to retrieve the stool and picnic basket before motioning for Rory to follow them.

He nearly tripped stepping through the door. The tent had a wooden floor, raising them about an inch off the ground. He stared at it for a moment before looking up to take in the rest of the interior. A small metal stove sat in the center of the tent, with a pipe running from it up through a hole in the roof. Warmth was already radiating from the stove, and a small stack of firewood rested beside it. There were two cots, set at right angles to each other a few feet from the stove. One held the Doctor. The other was empty, save for a folded blanket. The illumination came from four candles in a wooden chandelier hanging from one of the support beams holding up the tent.

Rory tore his eyes away from interior as Rolf carried in the stool and basket. He put them by the stove before speaking.

"I believe you'll be comfortable here," he said, "but if there is anything else you need, please let us know." He gave a half-bow before turning to leave.

"Tha… thank you," Rory stammered. The other man hesitated for a moment, seeming startled by his words, before nodding and continuing on his way.

Once he was alone, Rory took a moment to check the stove. He determined that the fire inside was well-stoked before he reached for the stool. He moved it over so he could sit beside the Doctor. He had a better view of the Time Lord's face with the chandelier's illumination and he was relieved to see some color returning to it. The Doctor's eyes were moving behind his lids and Rory wondered if rapid-eye-movement was a sign of dreaming in Time Lords as well as humans. His face was peaceful and Rory hoped that meant his dreams, if he actually was dreaming, were pleasant.

After a few minutes of watching the Doctor, Rory realized that his stomach was growling. It had been a long time since their picnic lunch. Left-over sandwiches didn't sound particularly appetizing, but maybe he could figure out a way to toast one with the stove and make it a little more palatable. He opened the basket and rummaged inside, finding his thermos of tea (English Breakfast) and pulling it out before reaching back in to get the sandwich platter. His hand had just closed around the plate's edge when he heard someone call from just outside the tent.

"Master Williams? May I come in?" Rory got hastily to his feet, recognizing the queen's voice.

"Yes Ma'am," he called, feeling his face flush. Ma'am hardly seemed appropriate but he wasn't sure what he should call her; he wasn't supposed to know she was a queen after all. The tent flap moved and two men came in, carrying a table and chairs. They set them down near the stove, opposite the Doctor's cot and moved aside as two more men stepped in. One carried a large covered platter while the other had a jug, goblets, and plates. They set the table quickly before bowing to Rory and withdrawing.

Rory pulled his eyes from the table at the sound of a clearing throat and saw that the queen was standing near the tent door. She'd changed from her travel-clothes into a flowing robe. Her hair was loose; two jeweled combs held the sides back from her face, allowing the rest to tumble past her shoulders in gentle waves. In the lantern-light Rory could see that it was almost as vibrant a shade of red as Amy's.

"I thought you might join me for supper," she said, indicating the table.

"Tha… that's very kind of you. Thank you," Rory answered, feeling his face warm as he stammered. What was it about these people that made him incapable of speaking properly? He stayed where he was, standing near the Doctor's cot, until the queen smiled.

"I know Dr. Andrews slipped and revealed my identity. Please, don't let it trouble you."

"Al… alright."

"Shall we?" she asked, motioning to the table. Rory nodded, feeling his blush deepen, and moved forward to hold her chair. _That's probably something a queen expects_ , he told himself. She smiled at him and moved to take the seat he offered. A hint of a floral perfume reached him as she dropped into the chair, reminding him of lavender.

It was just as he was about to take his own chair that Rory noticed the other woman standing just inside the tent door. She was small and blonde, with her hair piled up on top of her head. He stopped, half-way between sitting and standing, and scrambled back upright again.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't realize you were there." The woman dipped her head and the queen spoke.

"This is Nell, one of my ladies."

"Oh. She's… she's not eating?" He looked down at the table, taking in the two chairs and two plates, and wanted to kick himself.

"She is here to… maintain propriety," the queen replied, waving him back toward a seat.

"Oh. Ok." Of course queens had ladies in waiting. He knew that. _Everyone_ _knows that_ , he chided himself. He sat down, feeling embarrassed, and Nell came forward to fill their goblets. She removed the cover from the platter, revealing a generous portion of meat (which looked like ham) as well as chunks of some cheese-like substance and a small loaf of bread. Lastly, she presented them each with a cloth napkin before bobbing a curtsey and returning to her position by the door. Rory turned his gaze back to the table. He didn't see any silverware and he was wondering how they were supposed to eat when the queen reached for the loaf of bread. She tore off a chunk of it before offering the rest to Rory. He took it and followed her example, putting a chunk on his plate. The cheese (the flavor was similar to cheddar when he tasted it) was already cubed and the meat was cut into small pieces. The queen reached out to take several pieces of each and Rory followed suit.

"I know you must be worried, both for your friend and your wife, but you must be hungry," the queen said, frowning at his half-filled plate.

"I… I can always take more if I'm still hungry, can't I?"

"Of course." She beamed at him and Rory ducked his head, taking a cautious bite of the meat. It not only looked like ham but it tasted like it as well. He kept his eyes on his plate, concentrating on not making a mess. Not only was he painfully aware of the queen's scrutiny, but he was also flustered by the presence of Nell. He felt awkward eating in front of her. There was more than enough food on the platter to share with several more people. _Does she have to wait until we're finished?_ he wondered. _Or has she already had something to eat? I wish the Doctor was awake. He'd know how to handle a queen._ He glanced at the Doctor, but he was still on his cot.

"Will he recover?" The queen spoke quietly but Rory still started.

"Of course," he said quickly. He hadn't let himself consider the possibility that the Doctor wouldn't be alright. He'd held on to the thought that once they had the med kit, everything would be fine. _What if by the time Amy get's back, it's too late?_ He let the meat he was holding drop to his plate as a lump filled his throat. He reached for his goblet to take a drink and nearly choked on the potent wine it contained. He snagged his napkin, coughing and spluttering into it.

"Are you alright?" The queen got to her feet, moving around to pound him on the back. "Nell, fetch some water please."

"Yes, M'Lady." The blonde bobbed a curtsey and turned for the door, just as the skies opened up. The rain came down so hard that Rory expected the tent to collapse from the pounding. The queen gave a startled yelp and Nell turned from the door in alarm.

"It's alright – don't go out there," Rory managed. "I've got some tea." He got to his feet and retrieved his thermos, as well as the stool Rolf had provided. He set it at the table before pouring out a cup of the tea. To his surprise, the liquid was still warm. Once he'd taken a few sips, he felt his throat easing.

"Are you alright now?" the queen asked.

"Yes," he replied, nodding. The rain was still pounding down and he hoped that the rest of the queen's party had found some shelter. "It sounds like you and Nell might be stuck here a while. Perhaps she'd like to sit down and have something to eat?" He indicated the stool and the queen smiled.

"Very well." She turned to summon her lady. "You may come and sit with us, Nell."

"Thank you, M'Lady." Nell bobbed once again before coming to the table. She settled on the stool, keeping her eyes down, and nibbled on a piece of cheese. Rory handed her his goblet, preferring to stick with his tea. The rain continued to pound down outside but the tent seemed to be waterproof. He fervently hoped that Amy had made it to the TARDIS before the storm began, but it was too much to hope that she would wait there. She'd be determined to get back to the Doctor with the med kit as quickly as possible. He thought about her, alone in the dark and the pouring rain, and felt the food he'd swallowed turning to stone in his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to those who've left Kudos. Comments would be most welcome as well, so long as they are constructive in nature. Thanks for reading!


	7. The Doctor

The Doctor was drifting in a cocoon of warmth and softness. He knew there were things happening outside of it, things that were probably important and required his attention, but there was also pain out there and worry. None of it could reach him in his cocoon. He knew he couldn't stay here forever, but he wasn't ready to leave yet. _Just a little longer_ , he thought, almost pleading with himself as he drifted closer to wakefulness. He struggled but it was to no avail. He could feel cool air sneaking in under the quilt's edge, clearing the fog in his mind. Pain was creeping back too, starting in his shoulder and ankle. He could sense that it was light out as well, despite having his eyes shut beneath the quilt. His innate sense of time kicked in, telling him it was morning. _One… no, two, hours past dawn._

As he grew alert, memories started to return. He was in pain because he'd fallen. Rory had said something about a broken collar-bone and a sprained ankle. He'd been very worried. The Doctor had wanted to reassure him but it had been so hard just to stay awake. People had moved him, he remembered that, and he'd heard a man and a woman talking together close by. He'd thought it was Rory and Amy. They often sat together on the little bench in the console room, talking while he piloted the TARDIS…

"Doctor? Are you awake?" The quilt lifted from his face and the Doctor cringed as light and cool air rushed in. He opened his eyes and squinted up into Rory's haggard face, wincing at the dark shadows and lines of tension he saw there.

"Rory…"

"Just stay still," the young man commanded, putting a hand on the Doctor's good shoulder. "Do you remember what happened to you?"

"I fell off a cliff," the Doctor replied. He frowned as he realized he wasn't looking at the sky. "We're in a tent."

"Yes. The queen arranged it for us."

"The queen…" The Doctor let his voice trail off, remembering a portly man in doublet and hose wringing his hands. _He wasn't supposed to tell_. "Oh yes."

"I need to get your arm in a sling and wrap your ankle," Rory said brusquely. "Stay still." He got to his feet and moved away. The Doctor could hear him moving around the tent and he turned his head slowly to watch.

"Amy…"

"Amy's still not back." Rory didn't turn from rummaging in a small chest. His voice contained a mixture of anger and fear. "I don't know where she is." The last came out almost a whisper. A chill washed over the Doctor.

"Not back…" He let his voice trail off as he remembered Rory telling him that Amy had gone for the med kit. "But who were you talking to last night?"

"What?" Rory looked up from the chest, frowning over at the Doctor.

"I heard, at least, I thought I heard, you speaking with a woman," the Doctor said, wincing as Rory's frown deepened to a glare. "Maybe I was dreaming?"

"You heard the queen," Rory replied tersely, getting to his feet. "We… we ate supper together in this tent." He moved to the foot of the Doctor's cot and drew back the quilt, kneeling to work on his ankle. The Doctor propped himself up on his good arm to watch but all he could see was the top of Rory's head.

"And Amy didn't make it back?" He hissed in a breath as his boot was pulled off roughly.

"No, she didn't," Rory growled. His hands stilled for a moment. When he spoke again, the anger was gone from his voice and he sounded close to tears. "It started to storm part-way through dinner. It was so bad for a while that the queen and her lady-in-waiting couldn't return to their own tent." Rory began to wrap something around the Doctor's ankle, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke. "It rained all night. Sometimes it was a down-pour, other times just a drizzle. It's still misting this morning."

"You… you were awake all night?"

"Of course I was awake," Rory snapped. His hands left the Doctor's ankle as he got to his feet, pacing around the tent. "Amy was out there in the rain somewhere. You were hurt and unconscious. How was I supposed to sleep?"

"I'm sorry, Rory," the Doctor murmured. He could feel the last of his warmth fading now as guilt settled its chill around him.

"I need to go look for her."

The Doctor nodded, ignoring the way it made his head ache. "Go…"

"I can't!" Rory protested, pausing in his pacing to stare. "I can't just… leave you."

"I'll be fine…"

"Riiight. I can just see myself explaining to Amy." Rory shook his head, turning away to pace again. He seemed to be talking to himself.

"Rory…"

"Yeah, I left the Doctor behind and came to find you."

"Rory…"

"Don't worry – he said it was ok for me to abandon him.

"Rory…"

"She'd _kill_ me."

"Rory!" The Doctor sharpened his tone and the young man stopped talking, turning to stare at him. "Go and look for her."

"Doctor…"

" _Please_." He fought hard to suppress a shudder. "Go find Amy."

"I'll… I'll talk to the queen," Rory said, nodding. "Maybe she can help." The Doctor opened his mouth to warn Rory about accepting help from royalty – it always came at a high cost - but the words died on his lips. _This is for Amy_.

"Ok," he said. Rory nodded once more before turning to leave the tent. The Doctor let himself sink back into the cot, trembling as the shivers came over him. He could hear voices outside the tent, and the sound of horses moving around. He tried to make out what was being said but his head was starting to hurt and it was hard to concentrate. He closed his eyes and raised his good hand to cover the lids, trying to shut out all the light. His fingers grazed the knot on his temple and he sucked in a breath as the pain in his head increased. For a moment he thought he might be sick. He stayed still on the cot, concentrating on his breathing as he waited for the nausea to pass.

"Doctor?" Rory's voice made him start, sending another jolt of pain through him. He'd been so focused on his breathing that he hadn't heard the young man return to the tent. He opened his eyes to find Rory standing over him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's alright," the Doctor murmured. "Were you able to speak with the queen?"

"Yes. She's getting a group of her guard together to help me search for Amy." Now that the decision had been made, Rory seemed calmer. "I'm going to finish wrapping your ankle and get your arm in a sling before I go." He moved to the foot of the cot and the Doctor closed his eyes, bracing himself for more pain. Rory's hands were steady and gentle as he worked, causing very little discomfort as he secured the bandage. When he finished, he tucked the blanket back around the Doctor's feet before retrieving the sling.

Moving his arm into the sling was not as easy as having his ankle wrapped had been. Rory was as gentle as possible but the Doctor still wound up gasping and shaking in pain before it was finished. He sank into the cot and Rory drew the quilt up around him, watching him anxiously.

"I can get you some water," he offered. "Would that help?"

"No, thank you," the Doctor replied as his stomach roiled. He didn't want to try to swallow anything right now. "Maybe later."

"The queen said she'd have someone sit with you while I'm gone. If you need anything…"

"I'll ask," the Doctor promised. He shifted on the cot, reaching for his breast-pocket, and Rory frowned.

"What…"

"TARDIS key," the Doctor replied. His hand closed around his sonic screwdriver and he pulled it from his pocket to get it out of the way. He frowned as he realized it was in two pieces. _Not another one!_

"You must have landed on it," Rory said, taking the halves from him. "Should I…"

"Just leave it in the TARDIS," the Doctor said, retrieving the key. "She'll make me a new one. Again."

"Ok." Rory tucked the screwdriver pieces into his jacket pocket and reached for the key. Instead of taking it, he closed his hand around the Doctor's for a moment. "I'll be back."

"I know," the Doctor answered. "Bring Amy with you, ok?"

"Ok." Rory smiled and took the key. "Stay in that cot," he ordered as he got to his feet. "You need to rest."

"I will," the Doctor promised. For once he wasn't the least bit curious about his surroundings; he just wanted his head to stop throbbing. He closed his eyes, moving his hand back in to place carefully. He heard Rory move away, and then there seemed to be more activity outside the tent with both men and horses. After a few minutes, he heard the riders move away. Quiet descended on the camp.

The Doctor stayed in his cot. His stomach slowly settled and the throbbing in his head lessened, but his worry for Amy and Rory kept him from giving in to his growing drowsiness. What was he going to do if Rory couldn't find Amy? He shifted on the cot, feeling some of the nausea returning. _She didn't want to come here – it was_ _your_ _idea_ , he thought. _She went out there in the dark to try and help_ _you_ _. If something happened to her…_

"Hello?" The Doctor's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a woman's voice. He moved his hand away from his eyes and turned to see a woman crossing the tent toward him. She was dressed in a mustard-colored jacket and skirt over a high-necked ivory blouse. She had wide dark eyes, a small mouth, and red hair.

"Hello," the Doctor said. She smiled at him as she came closer.

"Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?" she asked. A faint whiff of some floral scent reached him. It seemed familiar, as did her voice.

"Just my friends back safe," he told her. She smiled and reached for a stool, pulling it over to sit by his cot.

"Master Williams is escorted by a company of the royal guard," she said. "They will see to it that he returns safely."

"And Amy?" The Doctor looked away, suppressing a smile as he realized where he'd heard her voice before. This was the woman Rory had been talking with the night before. _The queen herself, visiting me_ , he thought.

"They'll see to her return as well, provided she can be found."

"You're being very generous with us, Your Majesty." He looked over as she laughed.

"Very good," she said, sounding delighted. "What gave me away?"

"Your voice. I heard you talking with Rory last night."

"He was kind enough to dine with me," the queen replied, still sounding amused. "I'm sorry you weren't well enough to join us."

"Oh, I wouldn't have wanted to intrude."

"You would have been most welcome, Doctor," she said, continuing to smile at him. "You and your friend… interest me."

"Lucky us," he murmured. There were more people moving in the camp now, and a horse whinnied nearby. He propped himself up on his good arm, listening intently. Something was happening.

"That did sound terribly arrogant, didn't it?" The queen said ruefully. "I…

"Ssh," hissed the Doctor, cutting her off. There were more footsteps now, moving swiftly toward the tent.

"What…" The queen fell silent as a muffled scream sounded outside the tent. "Don't move," she ordered, getting to her feet. She slipped a sheathed dagger out of the sleeve of her jacket and started toward the tent door. She was half-way there when the flap was flung back and a man stepped inside. He had the same dark eyes as the queen, though his hair was blonde instead of red. He took in the scene in the tent with a quick glance and smiled. _That's not a nice smile at all_ , the Doctor thought, feeling both his hearts speed up.

"I thought I'd find you here, Sister," the man said.

"What's going on, Geoff?" asked the queen calmly. She'd moved her dagger; the Doctor spotted the blade glinting against the sleeve of her jacket.

"There's been a slight change in plan," Geoff answered. "We won't be waiting here for your men to return with Master Williams."

"Really? Where…" Geoff lunged and the queen gave a startled yelp, stepping back. She wasn't quick enough however, and the man wrested the dagger away from her.

"You'll be coming with me, Anne," he said, gripping her wrist tightly. "Father would like a word."


	8. Anne

Anne could hear the rain on her tent when she woke up. She sighed at the sound. She'd woken several times throughout the night and each time it had been raining. She bit back a growl of frustration. She'd intended to return to the palace today, but the roads were bound to be muddy and she didn't really want to ride in the rain. They could stay in camp for the day, but her guards would be anxious and some of her courtiers were bound to be impatient as well. Once again she cursed having such a large entourage. It was impossible to please all of them.

Anne shifted irritably on her cot, trying to be quiet. Her three ladies in waiting were with her, in cots of their own, and she didn't wish to wake them. She sat up carefully and studied them. _Which one of you was it?_ she wondered. _If I knew, you'd be awake. If I knew, you wouldn't be in here. Favored family or no, I will not tolerate a spy._ Her eyes narrowed as she stared at Nell. _You were with me. I don't think you would have had an opportunity to go to Geoff. That leaves Lavina or Morgan._ She shifted her gaze to the two brunette women for a moment. They were both sleeping peacefully; there was no sign that either was troubled by her conscience. Anne looked away from them, frowning in concentration. One of them had gone to Geoff last night and told him she was dining with Rory Williams. Geoff had burst in to the tent shortly after the rain started, insisting on escorting her back to her tent. He'd handed her a cloak and once she was wrapped in it, he'd lifted her up and carried her across to her tent at a run. Anne had found the whole experience awkward and embarrassing. _It's not like Geoff to be so overprotective…_

"M'lady?" Anne's reverie was broken by Lavina. The young woman was sitting up on her cot, frowning in concern. "Is there something I can get for you?"

"No thank you, Lavina," Anne replied. "As it's still raining I think I'll have a bit of a lie-in. Go back to sleep."

"Yes, M'lady." Lavina lay back down and Anne followed suit, uncomfortably aware of the other woman's eyes on her.

Anne was up and eating her breakfast when Master Williams arrived at her tent. She could see him just outside the door, speaking with her guard. He looked haggard, his face lined with strain and exhaustion. She got swiftly to her feet, moving to forestall the inevitable protest from her guard.

"Please come in, Master Williams," she called, stepping up to the door. Her guard turned, startled by her voice, and quickly ducked his head in a bow.

"M'lady." He took a step back, allowing Williams into the tent. Anne waved him in out of the rain, shooting a glance at her attendants. None of the three women had moved from their places around the room. _Good. No running off to my brother so far._

"Tha… thank you," Williams stammered, stepping in to her tent. Anne returned to her seat and motioned for him to join her at the table. He dropped in to the seat opposite hers, staring down at the floor. His leg was twitching as he waited.

"What's troubling you?" she asked. "Your friend…"

"He seems better," Williams said, looking up at her. "I… I want to go look for my wife but…"

"Your friend can't accompany you."

"He's still in a lot of pain," he replied. "He'd have to stay but I can't… abandon him."

"Of course not." Anne smiled and reached across the table to cover one of his hands with hers. "I believe I can help you."

"I… I would appreciate that," Williams said. Anne gave his hand a squeeze before turning to motion Nell forward.

"Please ask Lord Eckhart to join me here," she told the attendant.

"Yes, M'lady." Nell dipped in a curtsey before moving to collect a cloak and leave the tent. Anne glanced back at Lavina and Morgan, making sure that neither of them had moved from their posts.

Rolf arrived a few minutes later, with Nell at his side. She bobbed to Anne before returning to her position. Rolf waited until Nell had moved away before coming forward to bow to Anne.

"You sent for me, M'lady."

"Yes, Rolf. Thank you for coming so promptly." Anne motioned the man toward a chair and he pulled it over to sit by her table, waiting patiently for her to state what she wanted. "Master Williams' wife has not returned," she said. "He is understandably worried and would like to look for her."

"Of course," Rolf replied. "You would like to send some of the guard out to assist him."

"Precisely." Anne smiled, pleased at how quickly her captain understood what she wanted. "Given the weather, I didn't think we'd be ready to move our camp just yet."

"No, M'lady. I rode out briefly a short time ago to inspect the roads. There are a few places just outside the crater which will prove difficult for our wagons to pass over."

"Then we can wait here with Master Williams' friend while a party searches for his wife."

"Yes, M'lady." Rolf hesitated and Anne bit back a smile, knowing what was coming.

"I realize you are concerned about sending away a portion of my guards, Rolf, but with all my courtiers here and a good number of the guard remaining, I should be quite safe."

"Of course, M'lady." Rolf nodded once before getting to his feet. "I'll make the arrangements."

"Thank you," Anne said. Williams got to his feet as well, looking between the two of them.

"I… I really appreciate this," he said. "The Doctor…"

"I'll send someone to sit with him while you're away," Anne promised.

"Thank you," Williams replied, visibly relieved.

"Can you be ready to leave in twenty minutes?" Rolf asked. Williams nodded eagerly.

"I just need to see the Doctor for a minute," he said, moving with the other man toward the door. Anne sat back in her chair, allowing herself a moment of satisfaction, before she stood.

"Lavina, Morgan – I'm ready to dress for the day now." She didn't wait for a response before moving in to the bedroom area of the tent. Her ladies followed.

Anne was dressed in time to see off the search party. Master Williams seemed ill-at-ease amongst them, but he sat his horse well and had no difficulty when they rode off. Anne spoke with a few of her courtiers before making her way to the tent where the man called the Doctor was. Lavina came with her, while Nell and Morgan were set the task of packing up her bedroom in the hopes they'd be able to break camp by afternoon.

"You may wait here, Lavina," Anne said as they reached the entrance to the tent.

"Yes, M'lady." Lavina moved in a curtsey as Anne stepped past her and through the tent-door.

The man called the Doctor was lying on one of two cots. The quilt was drawn up around him but Anne could still see the sling around his neck. He had his good arm up, covering his eyes with his hand. He didn't stir as she entered and after a moment, she spoke.

"Hello?" The man jolted and she winced. He turned toward her and she gave him a sheepish smile.

"Hello," he said.

"Are you comfortable?" she asked him, moving closer to the cot. "Do you need anything?"

"Just my friends back safe," he replied. Anne nodded. She spotted a stool and pulled it over to take a seat by him.

"Master Williams is escorted by a company of the royal guard. They will see to it that he returns safely."

"And Amy?" he asked, looking away from her to stare up at the ceiling.

"They'll see to her return as well, provided she can be found," Anne told him.

"You're being very generous with us, Your Majesty." He looked over at her again, a slight smile on his face and she laughed.

"Very good. What gave me away?"

"Your voice," he said. "I heard you talking with Rory last night."

Anne nodded, still smiling. "He was kind enough to dine with me. I'm sorry you weren't well enough to join us."

"Oh, I wouldn't have wanted to intrude," he answered, sounding coy.

"You would have been most welcome, Doctor," Anne told him. "You and your friend… interest me."

"Lucky us," he murmured, looking away from her again. He propped himself up on his good arm, staring toward the tent wall.

"That did sound terribly arrogant, didn't it?" Anne said, trying to follow his gaze. "I…

"Ssh," he hissed. She stared at him in surprise, and then she heard the footsteps outside the tent. They sounded close and she turned, trying to follow them.

"What…" Her question was interrupted by a muffled scream. She felt her heart start to race. "Don't move," she ordered, getting to her feet and reaching for the sheathed dagger she kept in her jacket-sleeve. She didn't wait for the man to reply before starting toward the tent door. She was half-way there when the flap was flung back and Geoff strode in. Anne got one look at the sneering smile on his face and felt her heart sink. She shifted the dagger in her hand in an attempt to hide it, hoping she wouldn't have to use it.

"I thought I'd find you here, Sister," Geoff said. He sounded contemptuous.

"What's going on, Geoff?" she asked, keeping her voice steady with an effort.

"There's been a slight change in plan," he replied. "We won't be waiting here for your men to return with Master Williams."

"Really?" Anne tried to sound casual even as she moved closer toward the tent door. "Where…" Her question ended in a yelp as Geoff leapt toward her. She tried to move the dagger but he was too quick. He caught her wrist in a painfully-tight grip, wresting the blade away from her with his other hand.

"You'll be coming with me, Anne," he said, drawing her closer to him. "Father would like a word." Anne sucked in a breath at the news, trying to keep her emotions in check. _Stay calm_ , she thought. _If you can get out of this tent, you can get help from your guards._ She forced a smile on her face, refusing to flinch away from her brother.

"Of course I'd be glad to have a word with Father," she said. "I'll instruct Mr. Orthgood to make time in my schedule as soon as we return to court."

"He doesn't want to go through your secretary," Geoff spat, tightening his grip. Anne forced herself not to wince, letting him draw her closer. He leaned in so that his face was just inches from hers and she struck, kicking out as hard as she could. She hit his instep and Geoff gave a yelp, releasing her wrist. She moved as fast she could, making for the tent door. She was nearly there when she heard a cry of pain behind her. She turned, her eyes widening as she saw that Geoff was hauling the Doctor up from his cot and pressing the dagger he'd taken from her to the man's throat.

"Let him go, Geoff," she protested.

"You always were one for collecting pets, Sister," sneered her brother. The Doctor's face was twisted with pain but the only sound he made was a faint whimper.

"This has nothing to do with him," Anne said, taking a step toward them. "Please, stop hurting him."

"If you want him to keep his head, I'd suggest you cooperate," Geoff said coldly. "Two of my men are waiting outside. You'll go with them, nice and quiet now."

"Geoff…"

"I said now!" Geoff retorted, pressing the knife's edge into the Doctor's neck. Anne saw a trickle of blood start and winced.

"I'm going, I'm going," she said quickly. She tore her eyes away from the Doctor and her brother with difficulty and started out of the tent. She could hear Geoff laughing behind her.

Two members of her royal guard were waiting for her. One of them stepped forward to catch her arm and she pulled away, scowling at him.

"Keep your hands off me, Mr. Montague," she snapped, fixing him with a glare. The other man had started to come forward but he stopped when she turned her glare toward him. "Mr. Fitts."

"Let's move along, Sister." Geoff emerged from the tent, propelling a white-faced and limping Doctor with him. Anne felt her stomach lurch.

"Geoff…"

"I've decided I like this pet of yours," Geoff told her. "He puts you in such a… compliant mood." He tightened his grip on the Doctor and the man gave a strangled whimper. Anne took a shaky breath and turned, letting the traitorous guards lead her toward the exit from the crater.


	9. Amy

Amy hadn't expected to sleep. She'd been worried for Rory and the Doctor, aggravated by the way the women at the manor house kept staring at her, and furious with Lord Grist. Not only had he insisted that she couldn't leave, but when the maid had returned to announce that a room was ready for her, he'd scooped her up and carried her to it. He'd ignored her demands to be put down and allowed to walk, calmly moving up the stairs and through hallways to the room. He'd marched through the door and across the sparsely furnished room to a bench by the fireplace, depositing Amy on it.

"Get changed," he'd commanded, cutting off Amy's complaints, "and I'll see to your ankle." He'd turned on his heel and strode out of the room, leaving Amy to stare after him. After a moment she noticed the somewhat flabbergasted maid waiting by the door.

"Who are you then?" she asked.

"I'm Charlotte," the wide-eyed girl replied, shifting her gaze to the floor. Amy looked her over, thinking that she couldn't be more than 15 or 16. "I'm a maid here at the manor. Lady Harrow asked me to assist you."

"I think I can manage to get changed on my own," Amy answered. There was a simple nightdress on the bench beside her and she reached for it.

"I'll get you a towel," Charlotte said, moving quickly. Amy turned to watch as she darted across the room. There was a huge bed behind the bench and beyond it, up against the opposite wall, stood a wardrobe. This was where Charlotte headed.

While Charlotte rummaged in the wardrobe, Amy turned to removing her boots. It wasn't easy. Her left wrist was sore from where she landed on it. She managed to get her right boot off without difficulty, but her left was trickier. When she finally finished maneuvering the boot off, she could see why. Her ankle was very swollen. She eased off her sock, wincing as she reached the knot in her ankle. It was not only swollen but red and, as she grew warmer, the pain from it was increasing. She heard a gasp and looked up to see Charlotte standing nearby, gaping at her ankle. She held a towel in her hand but she was so entranced by Amy's injury that she'd forgotten all about it. After a moment, Amy lost patience and reached out to grab the towel.

"Thanks," she murmured, gingerly reaching for her ankle with the cloth.

A few minutes later Amy was dry and changed into the nightdress. Charlotte gathered up her damp and muddy clothes and turned to leave.

"Wait! Where are you going with those?" Amy asked.

"I'm taking them to be cleaned," Charlotte said, barely pausing as she moved to the door. "Lord Grist said he would see to your ankle. I'll let him know you're ready." She reached the door and pulled it open, hurrying out.

Grist had returned a few minutes later. He'd examined Amy's ankle, his large hands surprisingly gentle as he probed the injury. He'd brought a jar of a foul-smelling paste and he applied a liberal amount of this to the knot before binding her ankle with a strip of cloth. Her wrist received the same treatment.

"The paste will help take down the swelling," he explained, wiping his hands on her towel. "Now, I will take you to bed.

"What?" Amy squeaked. She tried to scoot away but once again the man hoisted her in his arms. He carried her to the bed and settled her there. For a moment he seemed to loom over her and Amy was afraid he might try to join in her in the bed. To her relief, he drew back and gave her a half-bow.

"Goodnight, Mistress Pond," he said. He turned to walk away, but not before Amy saw the glint of amusement in his eyes. He shut the door behind him and she sank back against the pillows with a sigh of relief. She closed her eyes for a moment and the next thing she knew, it was morning.

She'd just shifted on the bed, preparing to throw off the covers when she heard the door to her room open. She froze, feeling her heart start to race. There were footsteps, accompanied by a strange thumbing, and then the mattress shifted as someone climbed on to the bed.

"Mama!" cried a voice, and the quilts were pulled away from her face. Amy had a brief impression of an adorable little boy's face before he started to scream. He moved back on the bed, landing on her sore ankle and she echoed his scream with one of her own. For a moment they just stared, each continuing to shriek.

"What is the meaning of this?" Lord Grist's booming voice cut through the commotion. Both Amy and the boy fell silent, staring at him. The big man was standing in the doorway, clad in a night-shirt, boots, and carrying a sword. Amy's eyes were drawn to his bare knees, poking out between the hem of his shirt and the top of his boots. She could feel a giggle welling up in her. It burst free before she could suppress it. A second later the boy echoed it and then they were both giggling hysterically while Grist glowered at them.

"What is going on?" Lady Harrow appeared in the doorway behind Grist. He stepped aside to let her pass, his face flushing as she looked him over. She shifted her gaze to the bed and her eyes went wide. "Arthur!" The boy's giggles slowed and he moved to the edge of the bed.

"I thought mama had come back," he said, dropping off the bed. He looked to Amy, his little face suddenly very serious. "I'm sorry I screamed at you."

"It's ok," Amy answered, trying not to laugh at his solemn face. "I'm sorry I screamed back." The boy nodded and turned toward the door. Amy frowned as she realized what caused the thumping noise she'd heard; the boy was walking with a crutch. He stopped in front of Lord Grist, looking up at the tall man.

"I'm sorry if my screaming alarmed you, Sir, and that I laughed at you," he said. Amy was startled by his formal speech. He looked to be all of 5 or 6, yet he spoke with much greater maturity. Grist seemed equally affected, dropping to his knees in front of the child.

"It… it's quite alright, Your Majesty," he replied. He looked down at his attire for a moment before lifting his head to reveal a sheepish smile. "I suppose I do look ridiculous." The boy's face broke into a smile and Grist laughed.

"Come along, Arthur," said Lady Harrow. There was a mixture of pride and alarm in her voice.

"Yes, Ma'am," Arthur replied. He let the woman shepherd him out of the room, leaving Lord Grist and Amy to stare after him.

After a few minutes, Lord Grist started to get to his feet and Amy shifted her gaze to him. She forced herself to keep her eyes away from his knees, not wanting to start giggling again.

"Who was that?" she asked, nodding toward the open doorway. "I thought you said the king was dead."

"King Henry is dead," replied Grist, not meeting her eyes.

"You called him 'Your Majesty,'" Amy said. "He… he's the king's son? What's he doing here then? Shouldn't he be at court?"

"The boy is only 5. He's too young to rule," Grist answered. He still wasn't looking at Amy. Instead, he was staring at the open door, shaking his head. "He's so like his father," he murmured.

"Why does that surprise you?" Amy asked.

"I…" Grist seemed to remember himself suddenly, turning from the door to frown at her. "That's none of your concern," he snapped.

"Well excuse me for being curious," Amy retorted. "The kid jumped on my bed…"

"You cannot stay here," Grist said, cutting her off. He strode toward the door. "I'll send Charlotte to help you dress and then see to your ankle." He stalked out into the hall before Amy could reply. She frowned after him for a second before sighing and looking away. _How many times are you gonna stare at that empty doorway today?_ She snorted at the thought before sliding toward the edge of the bed.

When Charlotte arrived, Amy was relieved to see that she had her clothing with her. Everything was clean and dry, though it smelled faintly of wood-smoke. Charlotte deposited the clothes on the bed and, at Amy's request, retreated to the hall. Amy dressed quickly, finding it much easier to flex her wrist this morning. Once she was dressed, sans socks, she sat on the edge of the bed. She held out her legs, studying her ankles. Her left ankle was still larger than her right, but the swelling did seem to have gone down. The bandage Grist had wound around it was loose.

Amy had just reached out to start unwinding the strip of cloth when the door to her room opened. Grist stopped a few steps inside the door to frown at her. Amy frowned back.

"Haven't you heard of knocking?" she demanded.

"No," he retorted. He was still frowning but Amy thought she saw his lips twitch. After a moment he gestured toward her leg. "Well, go on. Finish taking off the bandage and let's see this ankle of yours." Amy shook her head at him and turned back to her leg. She resumed unwinding the cloth, wrinkling her nose at the pungent smell from the paste Grist had applied. It seemed smellier this morning, and it also seemed to have stained her ankle brown.

"What's in that stuff?" she demanded, glaring at the blotchy stain. It looked like she'd done a bad job of applying sunless tanner to her ankle.

"Herbs," Grist said, coming forward to kneel next to the bed. He reached out to touch her ankle and Amy jerked away.

"Your hands are freezing!" she complained. "What'd you do, dunk them in ice-water?"

"Keep still," Grist ordered, gripping her shin. When she stilled, he moved his hands down to the knot in her ankle, probing gently. "I don't believe this is broken, but you shouldn't be walking on it."

"I have to be able to walk," Amy protested. "My friends…"

"Where are your friends?" he asked.

"They're in a crater. I'm not sure how far it is from here," she admitted.

"I know where it is," Grist said, frowning at her. "You were nowhere near there last night."

"I was trying to get to our… vehicle. One of my friends is hurt and I need to get medical supplies."

"You cannot possibly walk that far," Grist said firmly, shaking his head at her.

"I have to!" Amy cried. She started to stand but the man put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her down. "You can't keep me here!"

"I assure you, I have no desire to keep you here, Mistress Pond," he retorted. Once again she thought she saw a glint of amusement in his eyes. "There's something I want to show you. Wait here." He gave Amy's shoulder a squeeze before striding briskly away. She stared after him, feeling a mixture of fear and frustration. Much as she didn't want to admit it, the man could easily keep her trapped here. Even if he didn't, he was right about her ankle. There was no way it would bear her weight. She didn't know how she was going to reach the TARDIS or get back to Rory and the Doctor. How had they managed in the storm? They had to be cold and wet and hungry by now. She felt panic welling up and pushed it down. _There has to be some way I can persuade Lord Grist to help me_ , she thought.

Grist returned a few minutes later, carrying a rolled-up piece of paper. Amy sat up a little straighter and smoothed her hair. She hoped she could charm the man in to helping her, but he seemed oblivious to her. He crossed briskly to the bed and unrolled the paper on it. Amy turned to look and realized it was a map.

"This is where we are," Grist said, pointing to a small cross on the map. "You were found here." He pointed to a space perhaps a half-inch from the cross. "And the crater where your friends are is here." He indicated another space. It was perhaps an inch from the cross and an inch and a half from the place where Amy had been found. Unfortunately she had no idea what the scale of the map was. She leaned forward, staring down at it. An emblem that resembled a twisted tree stood out to her. She remembered seeing a twisted tree near the field where they'd landed the TARDIS.

"I think my vehicle is near here," she said, indicating the emblem. "There was a twisted tree nearby."

"So you need to go there, collect your supplies, and return to the crater."

"Yes," Amy replied, looking up at him. She widened her eyes at him pleadingly. "Can't you help me?"

"My men and I are travelling to the palace, here," he answered. He indicated a spot on the map about an inch south (at least, Amy assumed it was south) of the crater. "Taking you back to your vehicle would be going the wrong way." He frowned down at her and Amy felt the panic start again, making her chest grow tight.

"My friend fell into that crater yesterday," she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. "My husband has medical training so he stayed with him while I left to get the supplies. They were out there all night, without shelter, in that storm. By now I'm sure my husband is frantic with worry and our friend… I don't know what state he's in. I have to find a way to get those supplies to them." She stopped, shutting her eyes to hold back tears and took a shaky breath. "Please, help me."


	10. Rory

Despite having been provided with a comfortable tent and a generous dinner, Rory hadn't slept well. The rain had continued all night, with varying degrees of intensity. As hour after hour passed, his anxiety grew. Amy was out in the storm, trying to find her way to the TARDIS. Anything could have happened to her in the darkness. He felt himself getting close to panic and he distracted himself as best he could. Sometimes he busied himself re-stoking the fire in the tent's stove; other times he checked on the Doctor.

By dawn, Rory had abandoned trying to sleep. He'd paced the chilly tent, feeling his anxiety growing. The Doctor had slept on, oblivious to everything, and as time passed Rory had found his fear and panic turning to anger. The Doctor had once told him _fear generates savagery_ and he thought now he understood. He knew it was irrational to be angry with the Doctor, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. He reminded himself that the Time Lord had never meant for any of this to happen and he certainly wouldn't want Amy to be harmed, but still his fear and anger grew.

The Doctor had finally roused a couple hours after dawn. He'd been muddled at first but as soon as he learned that Amy wasn't back, he'd insisted that Rory go find her. Rory had protested that he couldn't simply abandon him and the Doctor had cut him off with a desperate _Please_. Part of Rory had known that would happen. This was the Doctor after all. How many times had he risked his life to save them? Rory had consented to search, then gone to the queen for help.

Queen Anne had understood his dilemma in an instant. She'd summoned the captain of her guards to put together a group to ride out in search of Amy and she'd promised to have someone sit with the Doctor while Rory was away. Rory returned to the tent to finish wrapping a bandage around the Doctor's ankle and get his arm into a sling. He was a careful as he could be but by the time he was finished, the Doctor's face was white and he was trembling. Rory moved the quilt up around him carefully, wishing he had some way to ease his pain.

"I can get you some water. Would that help?" he asked.

"No, thank you," the Doctor said. "Maybe later."

"The queen said she'd have someone sit with you while I'm gone. If you need anything…"

"I'll ask." The Doctor shifted on the cot, fumbling in his jacket. Rory reached out, wanting to stop him.

"What…"

"TARDIS key," explained the Doctor. Rory gulped. The only reason he'd need the key would be if he didn't find Amy; she had the other with her. He pushed the thought away. _Of course you're going to find Amy._ The Doctor pulled something from his pocket and his face fell. Rory realized that it was his sonic screwdriver, and it was in two pieces. He reached out to take them.

"You must have landed on it. Should I…"

"Just leave it in the TARDIS," the Doctor said wearily, reaching back into his pocket. "She'll make me a new one. Again."

"Ok." Rory tucked the screwdriver pieces into his jacket pocket. The Doctor held out the key and he reached for it, closing his hand around the Time Lord's for a moment. "I'll be back," he promised.

"I know. Bring Amy with you, ok?"

"Ok. Stay in that cot." Rory got to his feet with the key in his hand. "You need to rest."

"I will." The Doctor closed his eyes and lifted his good arm, putting his hand over the closed lids. Rory stared at him for a moment, feeling guilt souring his stomach. How could he just leave him? He thought of Amy, and knew he didn't have any choice. He turned and hurried out of the tent before he could change his mind.

Rory found five members of the queen's guard waiting for him, including Lord Eckhart, along with six horses. He'd never ridden a horse before but to his surprise, he found that he knew just what to do. It was another memory from the time-line that never was, when he'd been a Centurion. Except he hadn't really been a Centurion – it was a memory the Autons planted in his mind to fool him into thinking he was human rather than plastic. He shied away from the thoughts; if he stopped to consider the confusing jumble of memories in his head, he'd wind up with a migraine. Better to just accept that horseback riding was something he did understand and move on.

The queen came to see the guard off, much to Rory's surprise. She wished them well and they rode out, leaving through the crater entrance. Eckhart led them up a hill to the other side of the crater. Rory looked down onto the tent city, shaking his head at the size of the encampment. The entire crater floor was taken up with it. Not only were there the tents, but there were also the horse-lines and the fires. _Definitely not subtle_ , Rory thought, shaking his head. When he looked up he found that Eckhart had slowed his horse and was motioning for him to ride up alongside.

"We need you to guide us," he explained. Rory nodded, swallowing nervously. He hadn't paid close attention to the landscape they passed through the previous day; he'd trusted the Doctor would know how to get them back to the TARDIS when the time came. _How did we think Amy would find her way after dark?_ he wondered. He took a deep breath and scanned the plain before him, struggling to spot anything familiar. After a moment he thought he recognized a sparkling rock. Amy had been looking at it just before the Doctor fell.

"That way," he said, pointing toward it. Eckhart nodded and the guard moved forward.

Eckhart and Rory took the lead, stopping from time to time so that Rory could scan the landscape. He struggled to pick out anything familiar that would tell them they were on the right path. The farther they went, the more he realized that sending Amy in the dark had been foolish. _We should have waited until morning_ , he thought. _This is hopeless. She could be anywhere._

They passed over the hill-top where Rory had set up the picnic. When they reached the bottom, they stopped again so Rory could look around. After a few minutes he recognized a copse of trees and they moved again. It was getting harder and harder for Rory to spot anything familiar, and when they came to the edge of a large plain, he felt his heart sink in despair. Eckhart waited, watching him impatiently as he scanned the vast space.

"Stra… straight ahead, I think," he finally suggested. Eckhart nodded and they moved forward, this time riding six men across as they each searched for any sign of Amy's passage. The grass was thick here and there was no mud to capture footprints. Rory was starting to worry that he'd led the men the wrong way when one of the riders called out. He looked over to see the man holding up something. As he drew closer he realized it was a long, red scarf.

"You recognize this?" Eckhart asked. Rory nodded, feeling at once relieved and sick.

"It's my wife's."

"Then we know she passed this way. Good." Rory nodded, not trusting his voice, and the group rode on.

They'd been moving for about fifteen minutes and Rory was starting to worry about spotting landmarks again when he saw the tree near the edge of the plain. It was leaf-less, twisted, and familiar. Rory felt a surge of elation as he realized they were very close to the TARDIS now. His elation was quickly squashed by worry. They'd come all this way without finding Amy. The group rode on and after a few minutes the familiar blue box came into view. Rory spurred his horse to go faster, his heart hammering in his chest. _Please let her be inside. Please let her be inside. Please let her be inside._

When he reached the TARDIS Rory didn't wait for the others. He jumped down from his horse and ran to the door, fumbling to get the key from his pocket.

"Master Williams!" Eckhart protested.

"I'm going to go inside," Rory called, finally succeeding in getting hold of the key. His hand was shaking so badly that he had trouble fitting it into the lock. "You'll have to wait here." He didn't wait for a reply before pushing open the door and slipping inside. He quickly closed it behind him and turned. "Amy?" he called. His voice seemed to echo in the console room and he knew at once he was alone on the ship. He sagged back against the door, fighting back sobs. This had been his last hope. How was he ever going to find Amy now? He let himself sink down until he was sitting on the floor and put his head in his hands.

After a few minutes, Rory was able to get his emotions under control. He figured his best chance of finding Amy now was the Doctor. He needed to get the med kit, return to camp, and help the Time Lord. Once he was healed, they could find Amy together. Feeling determined and reenergized, Rory got to his feet and bounded up the stairs. The med kit was just where he'd left it in sick bay and he took a quick look to make sure everything he wanted was inside. He detoured into the room he shared with Amy long enough to tug on a jumper. He snagged one for Amy and another for the Doctor as well before charging back to the console room. He was half-way to the doors when he realized he still had the pieces of the Doctor's sonic in his jacket pocket. He turned back to the console. As he approached, a slot popped open on one side, reminding him of a rubbish bin.

"Well, that's tidy," he muttered, dropping the screwdriver pieces in. He started to turn away but a whirring sound stopped him. To his astonishment, a new sonic screwdriver popped out of another slot on the console. "What? You keep spares on hand?" he asked. He started to laugh, amused at himself for talking to the ship. His laughter died as a thought sprang in to his mind. _Seems like a good idea, as he keeps breaking them._ He stared at the console, thoroughly disconcerted. Had the TARDIS actually answered him? A beep from the unit broke him out of his reverie. He reached out to snag the new sonic and headed back to the doors. The TARDIS was strange enough when Amy and the Doctor were with him; he didn't like it when he was by himself.

When Rory stepped out of the TARDIS, he found that Lord Eckhart's men were not waiting for him alone. A second group of riders had arrived, and the atmosphere between the two groups was tense. Eckhart had a hand on the hilt of his sword and was glaring at a dark-haired man. The stranger had a hand on his sword as well.

"You're a long way from home, Lord Grist," Eckhart said. "What are you doing here?"

"I don't answer to you, Eckhart. I am a free man of Umbria and I'll go where I please!" The man called Grist punctuated his last statement by drawing his sword. Eckhart followed suit. The other men in both parties reached for their weapons as well.

"Oi!" came a familiar voice. "Put those away before you poke someone's eye out!" Rory took a step forward, searching for a glimpse of the speaker, and Grist turned his sword toward him. A second later Amy leaned out from behind the man, reaching out to grab his sword arm. Grist turned to glare at her.

"Mistress Pond, I'll thank you not to interfere!" he growled.

"And I'll thank you to not point your sword at my husband!" Amy snapped, returning his glower. For a moment they frowned at each other, and then Grist slowly lowered his arm. Rory breathed a sigh of relief as Amy turned to grin at him. "That's better, isn't it? Now, where's the Doctor?"


	11. The Doctor

The Doctor hadn't been surprised when the queen kicked Geoff and made a dash for the tent door. He'd been watching her closely since the other man's arrival and what he saw in her face wasn't fear but fierce determination. He also wasn't surprised when Geoff hauled him up from the cot. Being prepared for it didn't lessen the pain, unfortunately. He'd bit back a scream and the queen had stopped in her tracks, looking back in dismay. She'd obeyed her brother's instructions, stepping quietly out of the tent. Geoff had started to release the Doctor only to change his mind. He'd hauled the Time Lord up by his hair and dragged him across the tent floor.

Outside the queen was snapping at two members of the royal guard.

"Keep your hands off me, Mr. Montague, Mr. Fitts."

"Let's move along, Sister," called Geoff, stepping out of the tent with the Doctor in tow.

"Geoff…" The queen started to protest, but her brother cut her off.

"I've decided I like this pet of yours. He puts you in such a… compliant mood." The man laughed, tightening his grip on the Doctor's hair, and the Time Lord tried to bite back a cry of pain. The queen looked furious. She turned reluctantly and allowed her guards to lead her toward the exit from the crater, her gait stiff. Geoff followed, bringing the limping Doctor with him.

Two more guards were waiting outside the crater, along with several horses. Anne was ordered onto one of them and somehow they managed to get the Doctor onto another. His vision was going gray by the time he was settled in the saddle and he started to sway. The queen reached out to steady him.

"Geoff, this man is already injured. You can't expect him to ride with us."

"I'm sure you'll help him," her brother replied. "Now, enough stalling. It's time for us to go."

The Doctor wasn't sure how long they rode. His pain was blotting out all his other senses. The horse he was on had a relatively smooth gait but there were still jarring moments as the terrain roughened. He swayed in the saddle more than once. Sometimes it was the queen's small hands that steadied him. Other times it was a rougher hand that pulled him back into place, jarring his injured shoulder. He kept his eyes shut, concentrating all his efforts on keeping nausea under control.

When they finally came to a stop, the Doctor breathed out a sigh of relief. He opened his eyes but his vision was still blurry. He tried to look around but all he could see were blobs of various colors. His relief at being stopped was short-lived. Rough hands seized him, hauling him down from the horse. He was propelled a short distance before being shoved into a seated position on the ground. He started to sag but a familiar pair of hands caught him.

"Here, scoot this way," murmured the queen. The Doctor allowed her to guide him until he was sitting with his back against something. He leaned back, letting his eyes shut as another wave of nausea came over him. He felt something cool pressed against his forehead and realized that it was a cloth. The queen wiped his face gently with it, pausing from time to time to re-wet the cloth. When she reached his neck, he was surprised to feel a stinging sensation. He remembered Geoff pressing a dagger to his throat but he hadn't realized that he'd actually been cut. The queen noticed his hiss of pain and moved the cloth away, rewetting it before settling it across his forehead. "Here – drink," she urged, and he felt something against his mouth. He opened his eyes and managed to make out that she was holding something like a canteen. "It's water. Just sip, alright?" The Doctor obeyed. He shivered as the cool water slipped down his throat and in to his empty stomach. To his relief, the nausea was waning. The queen helped him take a few more sips before she moved the canteen away. He let his eyes slip shut again as the queen got to her feet. He heard her moving away.

"What do you want?" demanded a harsh, male voice. It was hard to tell how far away the speaker was and the Doctor opened his eyes to see the blurry figure of the queen confronting a guard-figure a few feet away. He struggled to bring things into focus, but only succeeded in making his head hurt more. He let his eyes shut again but continued to listen.

"If you expect us to ride any further today, you're going to have to feed us, Mr. Trock," said the queen. The guard started to answer but Geoff's voice cut him off.

"It's a cute trick, Annie, using the men's names, but it's not going to work. Their loyalty is to me now."

"It'd be more impressive if you remembered our titles correctly," added the harsh-voiced man. "I'm _Lord_ Trock."

"Not anymore," replied the queen. There was the sound of a hand striking flesh and a cry of pain. The Doctor opened his eyes to see the blurry outline of Anne, leaning away from another figure. She seemed to be holding her cheek. A man he thought was her brother was looming over her, his hand drawn back as if to strike again. The queen rose up slowly, never turning from him, while the guards watched. The Doctor wished he could see their faces clearly, but his vision was still out of focus and he could feel his nausea increasing. He let himself sink back against the stone behind him, feeling ashamed; he should have intervened. He heard the guards arguing about how long to remain here; they were concerned about being pursued. Finally Geoff cut them off, ordering them to get the queen some bread. A few minutes later he heard the rustle of silk as the queen returned.

"I've got some food," she said quietly. "It's nothing fancy – just some bread. Do you think you can eat?" The Doctor opened his eyes to find the queen's face quite close to his. For a moment his vision was clear and he could see a red mark on her cheek from where she'd been struck. He winced.

"I'm sorry. That looks painful," he murmured. Anne smiled grimly.

"It's ok – just stings a little," she said. "Now, let's get you sitting up so you can eat, alright?" She moved forward to help him shift against the stone.

The Doctor managed to eat a little of the bread, which reminded him of an oversized saltine, and drank some more water. Just having the small amount of food in his stomach seemed to help. His head, which had felt very heavy, seemed to lighten and his vision slowly cleared. He watched the guards as the queen ate a portion of the bread. Three of the men were talking and laughing together, clearly feeling confident. The fourth held himself apart from the others. He kept stealing glances at the queen, his expression troubled.

"Mr. Fitts is having second thoughts," murmured the queen. The Doctor could hear the smile in her voice but when he looked over, her face was blank.

Their respite was brief. Just as the Doctor was starting to feel himself again, the guards approached.

"It's time to move out," Trock snarled, reaching down to haul the Time Lord up. Fitts stood back, letting Anne get to her feet on her own. He allowed her to precede him to the horses, only reaching out to give her a boost up into the saddle. Trock was not nearly so gentle with the Doctor, all but throwing him onto the horse's back. The queen immediately reached out to steady him in the saddle, glaring at the guard.

"If you expect this man to be useful as leverage, you'll have to make sure he reaches our destination without any further damage," she said coolly.

"Don't lecture me on strategy…" Trock began.

"Enough!" Geoff's voice cut the other man off. "Get to your horse, Trock, and let's get moving."

"Yes, Sir," Trock replied, shooting a poisonous glance at the queen before moving away. She stared after him, keeping her hand on the Doctor's good arm.

"Are you alright?" she asked quietly.

"I think so," the Doctor replied, and the queen let go of him. She kept her hand free, ready to reach out again if necessary, but he managed to stay upright as they started forward.

The terrain they passed through that afternoon was much rougher. It didn't take long for the jarring to have the Doctor's entire body throbbing with pain. His nausea returned, accompanied by dizziness and fuzzy vision. He shut his eyes again, relying on the queen's steadying hand to keep him in the saddle. He lost his sense of the passage of time again so he wasn't sure how long they'd been moving when the mist started. The cold drops coated him, soaking into his hair, jacket, and shirt-collar. Before long he was chilled through and shivering.

The group had ridden mostly in silence, but as the mist continued the Doctor heard mutters of discontent from two of the guards. When the mist turned to rain, the man called Trock spoke up. The Doctor couldn't make out his words but they garnered a harsh reply from Geoff. Trock persisted, and another guard joined in. When a third man spoke up, Geoff consented; they would take shelter in a cave just ahead. Mr. Fitts stayed silent throughout the debate. The Doctor didn't have a chance to wonder about the significance of that; his horse took a particularly jarring step and he started to sway out of the saddle, away from the queen's steadying hand. A rougher hand pushed him back toward her and she caught hold of his arm once more.

The horses stopped a few minutes later and the Doctor opened his eyes. His vision was still blurry but he could see a large dark blob which he assumed was the entrance to the cave. He was trying to focus when hands seized him, hauling him down from the horse's back. The next thing he knew, he was sitting on the cold ground with his back resting against a smooth stone wall.

"Stay still." A small hand came to rest on his good shoulder and the Doctor opened his eyes. Even with things out of focus, he could see that the queen was frowning.

"What…"

"You passed out when they moved you," she said, reaching out to smooth his hair off his forehead. "Mr. Fitts is getting a blanket from his saddle bag. Hopefully it will still be dry."

"Ok." The cold of the ground beneath him seemed to be soaking into him just as the rain had. He was shivering, each involuntary jerk sending ripples of pain through him.

"They want to build a fire, but I'm not sure they can without choking us," Anne murmured. "All the wood they'll find is bound to be wet."

"Yes," the Doctor replied, fighting to keep his teeth from chattering. The queen took hold of his hand, giving him a gentle squeeze, as they waited for the guard to return.

Fitts didn't keep them waiting long, and the blanket he brought was large enough that they could tuck it under the Doctor as well as over him. The layer of rough wool took the edge of the chill from the ground and he felt his shivering slow. The queen resumed her seat beside him, taking hold of his hand once again.

"I'm sorry you've been caught up in this," she said quietly. "I thought I was doing you and Master Williams a favor by offering you a place in our camp. Turns out I would have been kinder to send you away."

"You couldn't have known…"

"I should have known Geoff was up to something," she said. "He's always been content to stay at the palace but this time he insists on accompanying me? I should have been more wary."

"This isn't your fault."

"Hmph." She gave a bitter chuckle. "There are some in this realm who'd disagree with you on that, and I don't just mean Geoff and my father. I've gone too far, taking on the role of regent." She fell silent, staring grimly at the activity near the entrance to the cave, and the Doctor waited. After a moment she spoke again. "I will be to blame for what comes next. Geoff will threaten you to try to get me to give him what he wants. When I refuse, he'll hurt you. I'm very sorry, because I won't be able to yield no matter what he does." She turned to look at him and the Doctor could see tears in her eyes. He returned her grip, squeezing her hand and leaned forward.

"What does he want?" he asked.

"My son."


	12. Anne

Anne kept a close watch on the man called the Doctor as the morning progressed. It was obvious that he was in pain. His eyes were tightly shut and he swayed in the saddle whenever they hit a rough patch of ground. She tried to steady him but sometimes he tilted away from her and one of the guards pushed him roughly back into place. The man was barely conscious by the time they stopped at mid-day. Anne kept him from collapsing and managed to get some food and water into him. He seemed to revive a little, but then the guards ordered them back to their horses.

The afternoon's ride was worse than the morning's. The ground was rougher and the Doctor swayed several times. Anne spent much of the journey with her hand on his arm, keeping him upright in the saddle. He had his eyes closed again and she thought more than once that he was going to be sick. When the mist started the uncomfortable ride became miserable, and when it turned to rain it became unendurable. After the guards began complaining, Geoff consented to stop for the night. He led them to a cave. The entrance was large enough to shelter the horses, but they had to dismount outside. Mr. Fitts stepped over to assist Anne while Trock and Montague went to the Doctor's horse. The man was looking around, squinting at the entrance to the cave, when the men reached up to haul him from the saddle. Anne saw his eyes roll back in his head and he went limp in their arms. The guards let him land in a heap on the ground.

"For pity's sake, don't leave him there!" Anne protested as they snickered.

"You've gotten spoiled, being queen," sneered Geoff. "You don't rule here, little sister."

"I'm not trying to rule, Geoff," she retorted. "Are you so twisted by your hate that you can't recognize compassion anymore?" She glared at her brother and he returned it. Mr. Fitts stepped up beside her, crouching down to lift the Doctor. He didn't look at either of them as he carried the injured man into the cave. Geoff's scowl deepened and he reached out to catch Anne's arm, hauling her into the cave entrance and pressing her against the wall.

"It's a shame you couldn't spare some of your compassion for Father," he hissed.

"Father made his choice," Anne replied.

"You were queen. You could have interceded…"

"He stole money from the king's accounts!"

"He was accused…"

"The comptroller had proof, Geoff. I didn't want to believe him either but when I saw the evidence, I couldn't deny it."

"You're a clever girl, Annie. You could have persuaded Henry that it was the comptroller stealing, not Father."

"And let an innocent man die to hide Father's crime?" Anne shook her head. "I couldn't do that."

"Of course not. You're too moral for something like that."

"I did my best for Father. Henry only banished him from court…"

"And stripped half his titles!"

"He had to repay what he stole somehow," she retorted. "He should count himself fortunate. If he'd been any other man, he would have been executed for his crime." Anne tugged her arm free from Geoff's grip and stepped around him, heading for the back of the cave. She was surprised when Geoff didn't pursue her.

Mr. Fitts was with the Doctor at the back of the cave. He'd settled the injured man on the ground with his back against the cave's wall. Anne could see that the Doctor was shivering. Now that her confrontation with Geoff was over, she was feeling chilled as well. Her jacket was damp from the mist and rain, and the air in the cave was cool. She fought back a shiver of her own.

"I have a blanket in my saddle-bag," Mr. Fitts told her. "I'll return with it shortly."

"Thank you." Fitts stepped away and Anne took a seat on the cave floor next to the Doctor. His face was pale beneath his dark hair. She smoothed his hair back, frowning at the knot on his temple, and the man began to moan.

"Stay still," she cautioned, putting her hand firmly on his uninjured shoulder. He opened his eyes and blinked at her, seeming to have trouble seeing.

"What…"

"You passed out when they moved you," Anne told him. She started to smooth his hair back from his forehead again and flushed as she realized what she was doing. "Mr. Fitts is getting a blanket from his saddle bag. Hopefully it will still be dry."

"O…k." His teeth were chattering, making him stutter. Anne glanced back at the guards, who were talking near the cave's entrance.

"I'm not sure they can build a fire without choking us. All the wood they'll find is bound to be wet."

"Yes." His shivering was more pronounced now and Anne took hold of his hand. She gave him a gentle squeeze and looked back to the guards, willing Fitts to hurry.

The man returned a few minutes later, bringing a large blanket of rough wool. He helped her wrap it around the Doctor and to her relief his shivering slowed. Fitts returned to the other guards quickly and Anne settled beside the Doctor, reaching out to reclaim his hand.

"I'm sorry you've been caught up in this," she told him, keeping her eyes on the men. "I thought I was doing you and Master Williams a favor by offering you a place in our camp. Turns out I would have been kinder to send you away."

"You couldn't have known…"

Anne shook her head, cutting off his protest. "I should have known Geoff was up to something. He's always been content to stay at the palace but this time he insists on accompanying me? I should have been more wary."

"This isn't your fault." The Doctor's voice was firm and she chuckled bitterly.

"There are some in this realm who'd disagree with you on that, and I don't just mean Geoff and my father," she said. "I've gone too far, taking on the role of regent." She closed her eyes, remembering Henry's insistence. _I know you will always put our son's interests first, Anne. That's what's important._ She took a shuddering breath. "I will be to blame for what comes next," she continued. "Geoff will threaten you to try to get me to give him what he wants. When I refuse, he'll hurt you. I'm very sorry, because I won't be able to yield no matter what he does." She felt tears welling up and tried to hold them back. The Doctor's hand shifted in hers, returning her grip. She looked over as he leaned toward her.

"What does he want?" he asked.

Anne sighed. "My son."

"Your son… is heir to the throne."

"He's also a little boy," she said, fighting to keep her voice down. "He's only 5." She blinked back a fresh round of tears. The Doctor was watching her, his face full of sympathy.

"And you have to protect him. I understand." Anne turned away from his gaze, feeling her stomach twist with guilt and fear. She didn't want to yield to Geoff, but she couldn't know what she'd do if the time actually came. Putting her child into her father's power was unthinkable, but so was letting an innocent man be tortured. She blinked back tears, feeling her despair turning to fury. Her couldn't let her brother get away with this.

"We'll find a way out," she said fiercely, turning back to the Doctor.

"Good girl," he murmured, giving her a brief smile. "Don't give up." Anne gave his hand a quick squeeze before turning her gaze to the guards. Trock and Geoff were near the cave entrance, engaged in what appeared to be a heated discussion. _Fitts is ready to turn, and there's dissension in the ranks._

The guards eventually managed to get a fire started. It was quite smoky at first but fortunately most of the smoke drifted out of the cave. One of the men dug food out of a saddle bag and another produced a small skillet and a kettle. The smell of frying meat reached Anne, making her stomach rumble. She glanced at the Doctor, but his eyes were shut. His shivering had finally ceased and he seemed to be asleep. She hated to wake him, but she didn't want him to miss out on a chance to eat either. She kept an eye on the cooking, not wanting to wake the Doctor until the food was ready.

For a while Anne wasn't sure they were going to get to eat, and she was glad she'd waited to wake the Doctor. The guards prepared food for themselves, settling around the fire to eat. Anne fixed her gaze on Fitts and after a few minutes his eyes slid toward her. He looked away quickly, but once he'd finished his own meal, he got to his feet and started preparing more. Anne settled back against the wall, nudging the Doctor gently.

"Time to eat," she murmured, turning her attention back to Fitts. He was carrying two mugs with sandwiches balanced on top of them. Anne reached up to take them from him.

"I have something you might find useful, M'lady," he said quietly. He drew a small blue vial from his pocket and passed it to her, using his body to shield his movements from the other guards' view. Anne took the vial, turning it in her hand to confirm it was what she thought. She uncorked it, and reached for one of the mugs. To her surprise, the Doctor reached out a hand to stop her.

"What is that?" he asked.

"It's one of Dr. Andrews' herbal concoctions," Anne replied. "It will ease your pain and help you sleep."

The Doctor made a face, looking skeptical. "I'd rather not be drugged."

"It's a small dose. It won't knock you out; it should just take the edge off the pain and make it easier for you to sleep," she said. She glanced at Fitts, who was moving away, and lowered her voice. "If we're going to attempt an escape, you'll need your strength." The Doctor stared at the vial for a moment, his expression unreadable, before nodding.

"Alright." He let go of her hand and Anne put a few drops of the medicine into one of the mugs of tea before replacing the cork and tucking the bottle into her skirt pocket.

By the time they finished eating, the Doctor was having trouble keeping his eyes open. Anne reached out to keep him from bumping his head against the wall as it lolled. He blinked at her a few times before his eyes slid shut. She moved the empty mugs out of the way and scooted up beside him. A moment later his head came to rest on her shoulder. Anne shifted a little, trying to make sure he wouldn't wind up with a crick in his neck. A shadow fell over her and she looked up to see Trock smirking at her.

"What do you want?" she asked wearily.

"I was just thinking how cozy you two look," he replied, crouching down in front of her.

"The man's exhausted. He doesn't know what he's doing."

"But you do, don't you? I've heard the rumors – how you invite certain _gentlemen_ in your private quarters for _entertainment_."

"You should know better than to listen to gossip, Mr. Trock," Anne replied, feeling her cheeks warm with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

"I heard Eckhart got invited more than once," Trock continued, glancing over his shoulder at the other guards. "I guess we know why he was made captain, don't we?"

"That's enough, Trock," Geoff said quietly. "Come away from them."

"I don't think so," Trock replied. "Why should you be the only one amusing yourself?"

"Because I'm in charge here," Geoff snapped, springing to his feet. Trock jumped up as well. Anne shrank back against the wall, slipping an arm around the Doctor. If the two men started to fight, she might need to pull him out of the way.

"Pipe down, Trock." Another of the guards got to his feet, moving to stand half-way between the fire and the Geoff. "We're all tired and want to sleep." The man was in shadow but Anne thought she recognized Montague's voice. For a moment all the men were silent, tension radiating off them in waves, and then Trock made a disgusted sound and turned away, stalking back toward the fire. Geoff moved after him and soon all the men were settled around the fire. Anne watched as one by one they relaxed into sleep. She could feel the Doctor's breath against her neck, coming in steady puffs. She wasn't ready to join him in sleep; she was considering what she'd seen that day. Tensions between her brother and the men he'd recruited had been growing all day. _If I can find a way to exploit that, maybe we can make an escape._ She glanced at the sleeping man next to her. _It all depends on you. When I'm ready to run, will you be able to keep up?_


	13. Amy

Amy felt like she waited forever for Grist to respond to her plea. She finally opened her eyes to find he wasn't looking at her but scowling at the map.

"I was summoned to the palace," he said, his finger tapping the spot he'd identified, "by the queen."

"Then I guess you'd better go," Amy replied, fighting back disappointment. "I'll have to find another way…"

"Don't be ridiculous," Grist snapped, lifting his head to frown at her. "I just told you, you cannot possibly walk that far."

"And I just told you my friend is seriously hurt and my husband is seriously worried. I _have_ to reach them!" Amy retorted. She started to stand again, trying to balance on one foot, and Grist shoved her back down.

"I'll take you," he said, reaching for the map. He rolled the paper up while Amy stared at him.

"You… you will?"

"I'm not in the habit of saying things I don't mean, Mistress Pond," he said, giving her a grim smile. He finished rolling up the map and stalked out of the room, bellowing out a name when he reached the hallway. Amy sat back on the bed, unsure if she should be happy or worried. He'd agreed to help, but he certainly hadn't looked pleased about it.

An hour later she still wasn't sure. She was on the back of a horse, seated behind Lord Grist. She had her arms around him, holding tight while trying not to bang her jaw into his back. The ride was bumpy, to say the least, and all she could see was the back of his neck as they moved along at what felt like a very fast pace.

"Are we in a race?" she asked, raising her voice to be heard over the thundering of the horses' hooves. She not only had to contend with the noise of Grist's steed but those of the four men accompanying them.

"I thought you were in a hurry," Grist called back, not slowing his mount. Amy bit back a squeal and tightened her grip as the horse leapt a small ditch.

The one advantage to the speed they were moving at was that it didn't take very long for them to reach the twisted tree Amy remembered. Grist slowed the horse, bringing it to a stop and Amy leaned out to try to see past him.

"What are we stop..." She spotted the TARDIS, and the group of horsemen around it. "Oh."

"Friends of yours?" asked Grist tersely.

"No," Amy said. "I've no idea who they are."

"Stay behind me and keep quiet," he ordered, starting their horse forward again. Amy bit back her protest. She could feel how tense he was and her heart started to beat a little faster. Just what were they riding into?

It seemed to take a long time for them to reach the TARDIS, and Amy could feel the butterflies increasing in her stomach. They finally drew up to a stop and Amy peeked out for a second to see the other riders had all turned to frown at Grist and his party. She wasn't sure who moved first, but suddenly all the men had their hands on their sword-hilts. She moved back, not wanting to get elbowed when Grist drew his sword.

The men were so focused on each other that they hardly noticed the TARDIS door opening. Amy looked over at the sound, her heart racing. Rory stepped out, carrying a silver case and a pair of jumpers. He stopped, looking in shock at the two groups of men.

"You're a long way from home, Lord Grist. What are you doing here?" demanded one of the strangers.

"I don't answer to you, Eckhart," Grist snapped. "I am a free man of Umbria and I'll go where I please!" There was a hiss of metal as Grist drew his blade. The man called Eckhart did the same and all the other men started to follow suit. Amy bit back a yelp of fear; she did not want to be stuck on this horse with Grist if he was about to attack someone.

"Oi!" she protested. "Put those away before you poke someone's eye out!" Grist hesitated, but when Rory took a step toward him, he shifted his sword to point at him. Amy lunged out to catch his arm and he turned to scowl at her.

"Mistress Pond, I'll thank you not to interfere!"

"And I'll thank you to not point your sword at my husband!" Their eyes locked as they glared at each other. Finally, Grist lowered his sword and Amy let go of the breath she'd been holding. She turned to Rory, taking in his wide eyes, and smiled. "That's better, isn't it? Now, where's the Doctor?"

"A… Amy!" Rory exclaimed, letting the objects in his hands drop to the ground as he stepped toward her. "Who… who are these people?"

"Funny, I was going to ask you that. Once you've told me about the Doctor, of course." She shifted on the horse and Rory reached up to help her down. He had to help her stand as well, since her injured ankle wouldn't bear her weight. He looked down, taking in the bandage and the fact that she was wearing slippers instead of her boots, and his eyes went wide with concern.

"Are you ok? What happened to your ankle?"

"I'm fine – I just twisted it a bit last night. Now, where's the Doctor? In the TARDIS?" She started to take a hop-step toward the blue box but Rory didn't move. He had his head down, not meeting her gaze. "Rory?"  
"It's… uh…," he stammered. Amy narrowed her eyes at him, feeling a gnawing sensation in her gut.

"Rory, where is the Doctor?" she asked, enunciating each word with care. He looked up at her, his face full of fright, and she felt her heart sink. "You didn't. Tell me you didn't _leave_ him!"

"He insisted I go!"

"Oh my God! You left him!" Amy punched Rory's arm, hard, and he winced.

"He was so worried when you weren't back this morning," he said. "He told me I had to go and find you."

"Rory…"

"He's not alone. He's being looked after."

"Your friend will be well cared for," spoke up one of the strangers. Amy looked up at him to see he was dividing his attention between her and Grist. The tension between the two groups hadn't eased during her conversation with Rory.

"Would you excuse us for a minute, please?" she asked. She jerked Rory toward the TARDIS and he moved with her, stooping to retrieve the case and jumpers from the ground.

"Amy…" he stammered. She ignored him, turning at the TARDIS door to look at the two groups of men. They were both frowning warily at one another, hands still on swords, and she bit back an exasperated sigh.

"Oi! Randy!" Grist turned to frown at her. "And you – Lancelot!" This was aimed at the apparent leader of Rory's bunch, who turned to look at her in confusion. "We're going to step in here and have a little… discussion. Do you think you can play nicely while we're gone?" Both men frowned at her for a moment before looking warily at one another. Slowly, Grist re-sheathed his sword and to Amy's relief, the other man followed suit. The rest of the parties did the same. "That's better. We won't be long. Just… talk about the weather if you can't find anything nice to say." Amy turned and pushed open the TARDIS door, hopping inside. Rory followed her, dropping the jumpers by the door and helping to the steps. She sat down on the stairs and he crouched in front of her, reaching for her bandaged ankle.

"We can fix this," he said, unwinding the cloth and wrinkling his nose as he caught a whiff of Grist's ointment. Amy reached out to stop him and he looked up at her.

"Rory, who are those men and what have you done with the Doctor?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice calm.

"They're guards," Rory said, sitting back on his heels. "Last night, after you left, some people came along. They wanted to camp in that crater. At first they were going to make me move the Doctor but then their leader stepped in and said we could stay."

"And this person travels with… guards?"

"Yes. She..." Amy's brow lifted and Rory flushed. "She's the queen. She has this huge… entourage with her. They had all these tents they were setting up for the night – she even shared one with us."

"You stayed in a tent with the queen?"

"Not _with_ her. She had a tent of her own."

"Naturally." Amy shook her head. "Go on. Tell me about the Doctor."  
"He regained consciousness for a little while last night. I ran some checks – he had sensation in his fingers and toes, but he was seeing double," Rory said. "He seemed better this morning," he added hastily as she frowned.

"So you left him."

"When he realized you weren't back he kind of… panicked."

"The _Doctor_ panicked."

"He insisted I look for you. I went to the queen and she offered to send some of her guards with me. She promised to have someone sit with the Doctor while I was away too."

"She's awfully generous, this queen."

"She's been very… helpful," Rory said, his face flushing.

"Yeah, I can see that," Amy replied, arching a brow at him. His blush deepened for a moment, before he frowned.

"What about you?" he asked. "You called that man 'Randy.' Who is he?"

"Just someone I… ran into last night," Amy said. Rory continued to frown and she sighed. "I twisted my ankle and wound up sprawled on the ground. That man – Lord Grist – was riding and he nearly ran me over. He wound up picking me up and taking me to a house."

"He picked you up."

"Not like that," Amy laughed, smacking his arm. "He was a gentleman. He carried me to the house and bandaged my ankle. This morning he agreed to bring me here and then take me to the crater."

"That's awfully… generous of him," Rory said.

"I think he's avoiding…" Amy's voice trailed off as she remembered what Grist had told her. "He said the queen had summoned him to the palace. He didn't seem happy about it either."

"Why wouldn't he like the queen?"

"I don't know. Maybe she's bossy," Amy countered, surprised by Rory's reaction. He arched his brows at her and she smacked his arm. "Shut up!" They grinned at each other for a second before Rory sobered.

"Seriously, Amy, she's a good person," he said, his face flushing. "It isn't… you don't need to be jealous."

"Jealous? I am _not_ jealous, Rory Williams."

"Really? 'Cause you seemed a little…"

"I'm worried," she insisted. Rory continued to look skeptical and she sighed. "We need to get to the Doctor."

"We will," he said. "I just need to fix your ankle and then we can go. Assuming our escorts haven't killed each other." He glanced at the doors and Amy leaned down to tug on his jacket-front.

"C'mon – ankle, now," she said. He turned back to her and she leaned back on the stairs as he unwrapped the bandage. Amy watched him, her thoughts racing. She was impatient to be on her way, anxious about how the two groups of men were getting along outside the TARDIS, and unsure how to take Rory's defense of the queen. Her thoughts kept returning to the queen. Rory had sounded so… admiring. She wasn't jealous, was she? No, that was ridiculous. She was just upset because he'd left the Doctor with this stranger.

Rory used a device from the med-kit – it resembled a large salt-shaker and emitted a purple light – to heal her ankle. It only took a few minutes for the swelling and pain to vanish. Amy got to her feet, relieved to find she could stand without support. She hurried up the rest of the steps, dashing down the corridor to their room to get a new pair of boots. Once she'd tugged on the new foot-wear, she dashed back to the console room, her anxiety to get back outside increasing. Rory held out a jumper as she approached and she shrugged out of her jacket, revealing the bandage on her wrist.

"What's that?" Rory demanded, reaching for the med kit again. They spent a few more minutes using the salt shaker to mend that injury. Rory started to ask her if she had any other injuries but Amy shook her head, pulling on the jumper. She reached for her jacket, frowning at the second sweater.

"For the Doctor," Rory told her and she nodded her approval. She took the jumper and Rory collected the med kit. At the doors they hesitated. Amy listened intently, trying to tell what was happening outside.

"I don't hear anything," she said, looking at Rory. He shrugged.

"I always figured these doors were sound-proof," he told her. "It can hold in air while we're flying through space. Why wouldn't it hold in sound too?"

"Alright," Amy said, squaring her shoulders. "Let's go get the Doctor."


	14. Rory

Rory's relief at finding Amy was tempered by his concern about how she would take the news that he'd left the Doctor behind. He hadn't been surprised when Amy dragged him into the TARDIS for a "discussion." She'd admonished the guards to get along before hopping into the box with him following. He wanted to look at her ankle but she wanted to know what had happened. His guilt at leaving the Doctor resurged as he explained, especially as Amy was highly skeptical.

"When he realized you weren't back he kind of… panicked," he said, remembering the Doctor's desperate _Please._

"The _Doctor_ panicked." Amy folded her arms across her chest, looking dubious.

"He insisted I look for you," Rory said. "I went to the queen and she offered to send some of her guards with me. She promised to have someone sit with the Doctor while I was away too."

"She's awfully generous, this queen."

"She's been very… helpful." Rory could feel his face growing warm. Amy arched a brow at him.

"Yeah, I can see that," she said. The heat in his cheeks increased for a moment, until he thought about the men outside.

"What about you? You called that man 'Randy.' Who is he?"

"Just someone I… ran into last night," Amy said, not quite meeting his eyes. When he waited, she sighed. "I twisted my ankle and wound up sprawled on the ground. That man – Lord Grist – was riding and he nearly ran me over. He wound up picking me up and taking me to a house."

"He picked you up." It was Rory's turn to sound doubtful. Amy looked at him and laughed, smacking his arm lightly.

"Not like that. He was a gentleman. He carried me to the house and bandaged my ankle. This morning he agreed to bring me here and then take me to the crater."

"That's awfully… generous of him."

"I think he's avoiding…" Amy's voice trailed off for a moment, her eyes widening. "He said the queen had summoned him to the palace. He didn't seem happy about it either."

"Why wouldn't he like the queen?" Rory wondered.

"I don't know. Maybe she's bossy." He fought back a smirk, arching his brows at Amy instead. She smacked his arm, grinning at him. "Shut up!" Rory smiled back, feeling the tightness in his chest easing.

"Seriously, Amy," he said, sobering a little, "she's a good person." His face warmed again as he continued. "It isn't… you don't need to be jealous."

"Jealous?" Amy scoffed. "I am _not_ jealous, Rory Williams."

"Really? 'Cause you seemed a little…"

"I'm worried," she said firmly. "We need to get to the Doctor."

"We will. I just need to fix your ankle and then we can go," Rory told her. "Assuming our escorts haven't killed each other." He started to look over his shoulder at the TARDIS doors but Amy tugged on his jacket front, aiming him back toward her.

"C'mon – ankle, now."

It didn't take long for Rory to unwind Amy's bandage. There was some kind of ointment on her ankle, staining her skin brown and smelling vile. He wiped away as much of it as he could before reaching into the med kit to find the tool he wanted. The Doctor had used this device on his knew a few weeks ago. It only took him a moment to turn it on and within a few minutes the swelling in Amy's ankle was disappearing. The device turned itself off after a few more minutes and Amy sprang to her feet.

"I'm going to go get a new pair of boots," she announced, dashing off. Rory repacked the device and retrieved the jumpers he'd dropped by the door. When Amy returned he offered hers to her and she shrugged out of her jacket, revealing a bandage wrapped around her wrist.

"What's that?" he demanded

"Oh," she said, sounding surprised. "I forgot. I bent my wrist when I fell last night."

"Well let's get that taken care of too," Rory replied, reaching for the med kit again. The device made short work of that injury as well and Amy reached for her jumper, frowning at the second one.

"For the Doctor," Rory explained and she nodded in approval. She took it from him and he collected the med kit before they both headed for the doors. Rory could feel his apprehension increasing. What were they going to find outside? There'd certainly been a lot of hostility between Lords Eckhart and Grist.

Amy was apparently feeling the same apprehension because she hesitated at the doors.

"I don't hear anything," she murmured, glancing at Rory..

"I always figured these doors were sound-proof," he replied, shrugging. "It can hold in air while we're flying through space. Why wouldn't it hold in sound too?" Amy nodded and turned away to stare at the doors again. After a moment, she squared her shoulders and reached for the handle.

"Alright. Let's go get the Doctor." She pushed open the door and they stepped outside.

To Rory's relief, Eckhart and Grist were not fighting. All the men had dismounted, allowing their horses to graze on the lush grass around the TARDIS. When they heard the TARDIS door snick shut, both Eckhart and Grist turned. They started forward, glancing warily at each other as they approached Amy and Rory.

"Are you ready to return, Sir?" Eckhart asked Rory. Grist spoke at the same time to Amy.

"I can take you on to the crater now, Mistress Pond." Amy glanced at Rory, arching her brows and biting back a smile. He shrugged, unsure how to proceed, and the two men started to argue.

"You can leave now, Lord Grist. My men and I will escort these people to their friend."

"I promised this lady I would see to it that she reached her friend," Grist protested.

"And I'm telling you it isn't necessary," Eckhart retorted.

"Nevertheless, I will fulfill my promise."

"Are you suggesting that I wouldn't provide her a safe escort?" Eckhart took a step closer to Grist. Rory put a hand on Amy's arm, ready to draw her away from danger, but she was undaunted.

"Oh for goodness' sake," she said, rolling her eyes. The two men ignored her, pressing on with their argument. Rory looked from one to the other, noting their flushed faces. Neither of them was reaching for his sword, however, and after a moment Rory looked to the others. Both Eckhart's guards and Grist's men were watching the proceedings closely, but none of them were reaching for their weapons either. Rory turned his attention back to the conversation in time to hear Eckhart speaking.

"I am doing my duty and protecting my queen," he said.

"Your queen has nothing to fear from me."

"You've been absent from court for so long, Grist, that I no longer know where your loyalty lies."

"What are you implying, Eckhart?"

"Oi! Would you two just _shut up_ already!" Amy cut the men off again, glaring at them.

"Amy…" Rory cautioned, but she ignored him, taking a step closer to the Grist and Eckhart.

"Do the two of you have to fight over everything?" she asked.

"Apparently we do," Grist replied, "since Lord Eckhart is so distrustful."

"Well you're not exactly Mr. Forthcoming," Amy snapped. "Why don't you just tell him?"

"Tell me what?" demanded Eckhart. Amy swung her gaze to Grist, giving him a pointed look. He looked away.

"Oh for…" Amy blew out an angry breath. "Grist has been summoned to the palace by the queen," she said.

"Mistress Pond!" protested Grist.

Amy glanced at him for a second before continuing. "If he comes with us to the crater, he can see her there and save himself the longer trip to the palace."

"The queen summoned _you_?" Eckhart was clearly surprised. "What for?" Grist shifted his glower from Amy to the other man.

"If her majesty did not see fit to share her plans with you, you can hardly expect me to do so," he snapped. Eckhart's face flushed.

"Of course," he muttered.

"I can produce the letter," Grist said. "You can see her majesty's seal…"

"That won't be necessary."

"How very trusting of you," Grist said drily. Amy shot him a dirty look and he lifted his shoulders in a half-shrug. There was a long silence, until Amy nudged Rory.

"Say something," she muttered.

"Like what?" he asked softly. Amy shook her head and sighed, turning back to the man.

"Can we go now?" she asked, looking between the two men. Eckhart nodded grimly.

"Yes." He turned to his men. "Mount up! We'll be returning to camp. Lord Grist and his party will accompany us." Grist turned to his men, waving them toward their horses. Amy looked at Rory, giving him a tight smile.

"Finally," she muttered.

Amy wound up behind Rory on his horse, her arms wrapped around his waist. The ride back to the crater took less time than the ride from it had, in part because it was no longer necessary for the men to stop and check the route with Rory. Eckhart's men rode together in one column and Grist's men rode alongside in another. The ride was mostly quiet, the men in each column occasionally talking amongst themselves. Grist and Eckhart were silent. As they got closer to the crater, Rory could feel Amy's tension increasing.

"How was the Doctor when you left?" she asked softly. "Really."

"He… he was in pain," Rory admitted. "But he seemed… clearer than last night."

"So he'll be alright."

"Once we get this kit to him, yes." Rory glanced back at her, giving her a quick smile. "He's going to be fine."

Amy breathed out a sigh. "Ok," she said, returning his smile.

"We're not far now," Rory told her. They were just starting down from the hill where they'd had their picnic.

They'd just reached the bottom of the hill when the other ride appeared, riding hard toward them from the direction of the crater. As soon as he spotted Eckhart he began to shout. Rory felt his stomach lurch. Something was very wrong. He spurred his horse forward.

"Treachery!" shouted the rider. "My lord, we've been betrayed!" The man drew even with Eckhart and stopped his horse, struggling to catch his breath.

"What's happened, Thomas?" demanded Eckhart. "The queen…"

"The queen is gone, my lord," gasped Thomas. "As is her brother and four of the guards Lord Trock, Lord Dawson, Mr. Fitts, and Mr. Montague."

"How long ago did they leave?" asked Grist. Eckhart shot a frown at him before turning back to Thomas and nodding.

"We're not sure. One of her majesty's ladies in waiting concealed her disappearance for some time. Lord Taylor is questioning her now." Eckhart was about to speak again but Rory interrupted him.

"What about the Doctor?" he asked. The men turned to stare at him and he went on. "My… my friend."

"I don't know," Thomas admitted. "I'm sorry. No one thought…" Rory didn't wait to hear the rest, nudging his horse forward. Amy tightened her grip as they lunged forward, moving at a gallop toward the crater. Rory could hear someone shouting behind him but he didn't slow. He charged around the crater's edge to the entrance and into the camp. A guard ran toward him, waving his arms for him to stop. Rory reluctantly reigned in his horse and the man reached up to the bridle.

"Master Williams!" he cried in astonishment. "What…" Rory ignored him, dropping from the saddle and dashing toward the tent he'd shared with the Doctor. He could hear Amy calling out to him but he didn't slow. He charged into the tent, skidding to a stop by the stove to stare at the empty cot where the Doctor had been.

"Rory!" Amy burst into the tent, coming to a stop as she realized that Rory was the only person there.

"He's gone," Rory said.

"Are you sure?" Amy asked, a note of desperation in her voice. "Couldn't we have the wrong tent?"

"He was right here. I told him to stay in this cot and he promised me he would," Rory said, moving toward the cot. The Doctor's boots were on the floor beside it and he lifted them to show her. Amy drew in a sharp breath and Rory hurried toward her, putting an arm around her. "Amy, I'm so sorry."

"What do we do now?" she asked, reaching out to take the boots from him.


	15. The Doctor

The Doctor is dancing. It takes him a moment to realize he's in the hospital storage room, in London in the midst of the blitz. "Moonlight Serenade" is playing, but the sound quality is better than he remembered – much too good to be coming from the little radio. The woman in his arms is different too. It isn't Rose Tyler he's dipping but Queen Anne. She laughs as he swings her back up, her red hair flying as they spin. There is a knocking sound nearby but they both ignore it, continuing their dance. The knocking increases and then there is a crash. The Doctor turns, Anne still in his arms, and freezes. The door to the storage room is gone. There are two people in the doorway, but they aren't exactly people anymore. Their faces are gone, replaced by gas masks. Despite that, the Doctor knows immediately who they are. There's no mistaking that flaming hair, and the male's gas mask somehow looks… pointy. The Doctor feels his stomach lurch as the figures move forward.

"Are you my mummy?" asks the Rory-figure.

"No," he says "No, no no. This is wrong. This… you aren't supposed to be here."

"Doctor?" The voice is Anne's, but it sounds far away. The Doctor turns but the woman in his arms has vanished. He can hear her speaking to him though, feel her hand on his head, smoothing his hair back from his face. "Doctor, can you hear me? You're dreaming." She keeps stroking his hair and he focuses on that sensation, the dream world slowly fading. He drifts.

He wasn't sure if he dreamed any more that night. The next thing he was aware of was that it was morning. He was sitting on something hard and chilly. As he became more alert, he realized he was leaning on the queen. His head was pillowed on her shoulder and his good arm was around her waist. He was using the ruler of this realm as a large pillow. The realization was more than a little embarrassing, but he couldn't seem to wake up and do anything about it. Why couldn't he wake up? He struggled to hold on to the thought but his mind was wandering. Everything felt… fuzzy. _Those drops must have been stronger than Anne realized_ , he thought. _Or maybe it's just me…_

"Doctor? It's morning. Time to wake up," Anne said quietly. He could feel her hand pushing his hair out of his eyes again. He tried to answer her but his mouth wasn't working right. He managed a sound, but it wasn't speech.

"C'mon, Doctor. Wake up." Anne's voice sounded closer now, and the feeling of her hand on his face was stronger.

"'m awake," he mumbled, shifting a little. His head felt very heavy, too heavy for his neck to support, and he didn't try to lift it.

"How are you feeling?" Anne asked quietly. The Doctor considered the question. His head hurt, but it was a steady ache instead of the painful throbbing he'd felt the day before. His ankle was still sore, but that pain also seemed diminished. He wouldn't trust it to support him yet, but it was improving. The worst pain remained in his shoulder, but it was also reduced from the previous day's levels. _Perhaps there was some merit to those drops after all._

"Better," he said at last, struggling to lift his head from her shoulder. "Bit woozy." Anne helped him, gently cradling his head until it rested against the cave wall. She settled across from him, her back toward the cave's entrance.

"Sometimes Dr. Andrews' herbs can make people feel… strange," she said, watching him closely.

"Strange how?" the Doctor asked, feeling apprehension course through him.

"It varies from person to person," she answered. "Some people find that food tastes odd the next day, others have really vivid dreams." She stopped, ducking her head. Flashes of his dream returned to him, and the memory of her comforting him. She'd known he was dreaming. How?

"Was I… talking my sleep?" he guessed.

"A little," she admitted, looking up to give him a sympathetic smile. "Your dreams seemed… upsetting."

"I'm sorry if I kept you awake," he said, looking away. He couldn't remember all of the dream, but the more he thought about it, the more anxious and unsettled he felt. He needed to find his way back to Amy and Rory.

"It's alright. I wasn't sleeping." She glanced over her shoulder toward the guards and the Doctor followed her gaze. The men had moved the horses out of the cave entrance. As he watched two men came into view. The Doctor recognized the man called Trock. He didn't think he'd caught the other man's name. As he watched, Trock gestured toward the remains of the fire. The other man shook his head, growing more vehement as Trock persisted.

"Looks like a hot breakfast is out," murmured the Doctor.

"There's trouble between the men," Anne said softly, scooting closer to him. "They've been arguing off and on since dawn. Last night, my brother and Trock nearly came to blows."

"And you think we can take advantage of it." The Doctor frowned at her, not liking the idea. Provoking an argument between armed parties was a dangerous idea; it would be all too easy for them to get hurt in the process. "What about Mr. Fitts? He seemed… sympathetic."

"He's regretting his involvement," Anne said. "I hope I have a chance to speak to him this morning." For a moment the Doctor felt deflated; she'd already thought of what he was going to suggest.

"You've been busy."

"I had a lot of time to think," she said, giving him a half-smile. She moved closer, lowering her voice. "Tell me truthfully, how are you feeling?"

"I do feel better," the Doctor replied, keeping his voice down, "but I don't know how long that will last once we're on horseback. The jarring…" He lifted his good shoulder in a half-shrug, wincing a bit at the thought of another day of riding.

"So if we're going to make an attempt, we should do it early."

"That would be best," he agreed. Movement near the cave's entrance caught his eye and he looked up to see Fitts approaching. Anne turned to watch him. He stopped in front of her, crouching down and holding out two chunks of bread. Anne took them, passing them to the Doctor.

"Eat," he said, not quite looking at either of them. "We're moving out soon." He started to rise but Anne put a hand on his wrist.

"Mr. Fitts," she said softly, "we need your help."

"No," he shook his head. "There's nothing I can do." He tried to pull away but Anne tightened her grip, leaning closer to him.

"I don't know what my brother's promised you, but whatever it is it can't possibly be enough to make up for the loss of your honor. I'm offering you a chance to get it back."

"It's too late for that," Fitts answered. "I'm sorry, M'lady."

"That's enough, Annie," called Geoff. "It's time we had a chat." He strode across the cave to his sister, reaching down to haul her up by her right arm. Fitts stood as well, watching as Geoff propelled the queen across to the entrance and outside. He glanced at the Doctor, his face a mask of misery.

"I am sorry," he repeated. He started to step away, but the Doctor spoke up, stopping him.

"Was she a good queen?" he asked. "She seems like she'd be a good queen –kind without being soft, smart without being cold. Am I right?"

"Yes," Fitts said tersely, shuffling his feet.

"Then where did she go wrong?" pressed the Doctor. "What's made you turn on her like this?"

"She was never supposed to be queen, let alone regent," Fitts replied. "King Henry was supposed to marry Catherine of Iberia. Lady Anne came to court to be one of her attendants. Next thing we know, his majesty's run off with her."

"I'm sure that was a surprise," the Doctor murmured.

"There were treaties to be signed, an alliance to be forged. He threw it all away to marry a woman whose family is no more noble than mine," said Fitts. "She must have tricked him, seduced him. It wouldn't have been hard. King Henry always liked a pretty face, and red-headed women aren't common at court. He would have appreciated the… variety."

"Still, if she was a good queen, why not make her regent?"

"King Henry changed his orders of succession on his death-bed. It had to be her doing. She was with him up till the end."

"Let me guess – Geoff was supposed to have been regent originally."

"No, not Geoff. Their father."

"So that's where we're going. To see Daddy."

"Yes."

"And you're ok with taking your orders from him, just not from his daughter."

"I…" The man's reply was cut off by a call from outside the cave.

"Fitts, get out here and help us ready the horses." He stalked off, taking one quick look back before stepping out of the cave. The Doctor sank back against the wall, thinking about what he'd just learned. It was a typical royal court, he decided, full of petty jealousy and scheming. Geoff had obviously excited these feelings in order to get these men to along with him. Now they were in close proximity to Anne and at least one of them had noticed that the story and the woman's behavior don't match. How many of the others might be questioning Geoff now?

Geoff and Anne returned to the cave a few minutes later. He was moving quickly, half-dragging his sister. Once they passed the fire-pit, he stopped walking, flinging her toward the Doctor. Anne took a few stumbling steps, dropping to her hands and knees a few feet away.

"Remember what I said, Annie," Geoff said. "This can all be over quickly if you're a good girl. Do your pet a favor and cooperate." He didn't wait for an answer, spinning on his heel and striding out of the cave. The Doctor heard him call out to one of the men before he moved out of sight. A muffled gasp made him turn his gaze back to the queen. She was getting to her feet, rubbing at her arm where her brother had gripped her as she moved closer to the Doctor. She sat down beside him, continuing to massage her right bicep.

"You'd better eat," she said, nodding at the bread on the Doctor's lap. "It won't be long before we're going. They're concerned that we've lingered too long already."

"You'd better have some too," he replied, holding out one of the pieces of bread. Anne nodded grimly. She leaned over, reaching out with her left hand for the bread. As they ate, the Doctor's mind turned to escape. They couldn't just ride back toward the encampment; the guards would expect that and come after them. The thought of trying to stay in the saddle of a horse at a full gallop made his shoulder throb. He didn't think he could do it. Trotting had been bad enough the day before. Anne had seemed confident that they could make an attempt; he hoped that meant she knew where they were and had a destination in mind. Maybe there were people nearby who would show loyalty to their queen. He had to find a way back to Amy and Rory.

A commotion sounded outside the cave and Anne froze in mid-bite. She looked at the Doctor and he looked at her. Without another word she took the remainder of her bread and shoved it into her pocket, getting to her feet and starting for the cave entrance. She moved carefully, almost tip-toeing as she grew closer to the entrance. The Doctor watched her go, part of him wanting to call her back. What if she got caught? But he had to know what was happening, and he couldn't go himself. He cursed his ankle for leaving him in this position, feeling his hearts beating faster as Anne grew closer to the cave entrance.


	16. Anne

Anne had been watching the men since dawn. She'd kept her head down, feigning sleep as one by one they stirred. She'd had to work hard to keep still when she saw Trock and Geoff waking. Would they continue their argument from the night before? She tightened her arm around the Doctor, holding her breath as the two men rose. They stared at each other for a moment before Geoff made a disgusted noise and stalked away out of the cave. Trock watched him go before walking out and turning in the opposite direction. Anne hadn't been sure if she should feel relieved or disappointed.

Tensions were high as the men got moving. Trock and Montague snapped at each other over something, while the fourth man, Dawson, stalked about glaring at everyone. Eventually an argument did break out. Trock wanted to re-start the fire and prepare a hot breakfast; Montague insisted that they needed to get moving immediately. Geoff had argued with them both, refusing to agree to re-light the fire and linger for breakfast while at the same time insisting that they were safe from pursuit.

"Lavina and Morgan were to conceal our departure. I'm sure we were gone for hours before anyone in that camp knew it," he said. Montague seemed doubtful, while Trock seemed offended that the women had been involved at all. Finally, Dawson stepped in, silencing all three men with a fierce glower. Trock and Montague went back outside, leaving Dawson speaking quietly and intently with Geoff. Anne wished she could hear what they were saying.

Fitts remained quiet throughout the morning, watching his colleagues warily. Anne decided it was time she spoke with him. He was her best chance of help. _Careful_ , she told herself. _You have to handle this just right._ Her thoughts were interrupted when the Doctor stirred beside her. She reached out to smooth his hair off his forehead, blushing as she realized what she was doing. _It's not just that he's injured_ , she thought. _There's such… sadness in him._

The Doctor was slow to wake, obviously struggling with the after-effects of Andrews' medication. He finally managed to tell her that he was feeling better, but woozy. She helped him shift so he was leaning on the cave wall rather than on her. Once he was settled, she moved so she was facing him, feeling the need to put some space between them.

"Sometimes Dr. Andrews' herbs can make people feel… strange," she told him.

"Strange how?" he asked.

"It varies from person to person. Some people find that food tastes odd the next day, others have really vivid dreams." Anne ducked her head, remembering how he'd cried out in his sleep. Would he be embarrassed when he realized that she'd heard?

"Was I… talking my sleep?"

"A little. Your dreams seemed… upsetting." She looked up at him, trying to gauge his reaction. He looked away from her, clearly uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry if I kept you awake."

"It's alright," Anne told him. "I wasn't sleeping." She looked over her shoulder to see where the guards were and to give him a moment to compose himself. Trock and Dawson came into view, and it was obvious that Trock was renewing his argument about cooking breakfast. Dawson shook his head vehemently.

"Looks like a hot breakfast is out."

Anne nodded, turning back to the Doctor and scooting closer to him. "There's trouble between the men. They've been arguing off and on since dawn. Last night, my brother and Trock nearly came to blows."

"And you think we can take advantage of it." The Doctor's tone made it clear he didn't like the idea. "What about Mr. Fitts? He seemed… sympathetic."

"He's regretting his involvement. I hope I have a chance to speak to him this morning," Anne said.

"You've been busy."

"I had a lot of time to think." She slid closer, lowering her voice. "Tell me truthfully, how are you feeling?"

"I do feel better," the Doctor assured her, lowering his voice as well, "but I don't know how long that will last once we're on horseback. The jarring…" He gave a half-shrug and winced.

"So if we're going to make an attempt, we should do it early."

"That would be best." His gaze drifted from her and she turned to see what had caught his attention. Fitts was approaching. Anne kept her eyes on him as he drew near, feeling her heart start to pound. He crouched down in front of her, offering two pieces of bread. Anne took them, fighting to keep her hands from shaking, and passed them to the Doctor. _Here goes._

"Eat. We're moving out soon," Fitts said, not quite meeting her eyes. When he started to rise, she put a hand on her wrist.

"Mr. Fitts, we need your help." Fitts stiffened at her words and Anne knew she'd made a mistake. _This has to be_ _his_ _idea_ , she chided herself. _He's not ready yet._ Sure enough, Fitts shook his head.

"No," he said firmly. "There's nothing I can do." Anne knew she needed to let him go but she couldn't seem to stop herself. Her hand tightened on his wrist.

"I don't know what my brother's promised you," she said, "but whatever it is it can't possibly be enough to make up for the loss of your honor. I'm offering you a chance to get it back."

"It's too late for that. I'm sorry, M'lady." He pulled away and she let him go, feeling her heart sink. She'd handled this all wrong. _Maybe you are too used to being regent_ , she thought. _You've grown accustomed to giving orders instead of persuading people to cooperate._

"That's enough, Annie." Geoff's voice came from across the hall, making Fitts start guiltily. "It's time we had a chat." Her brother approached, reaching down to grab her arm and haul her to her feet. His fingers dug painfully into her arm as he propelled her across the cave and outside. She squinted a little in the sun as Geoff continued to drag her. He finally stopped a few feet from the cave's entrance, shoving her up against a standing stone.

"Geoff…"

"It's no good trying to recruit Fitts," he hissed.

"I'm not…"

"It's no good, Annie." Geoff's grip tightened and Anne fought back a gasp. "Do yourself and your pet back there a favor and stop being so stubborn. All Father wants is what Henry promised him."

"I'm not being stubborn, Geoff," she said. "Surely you realize that I can't give Father what he wants. I couldn't countermand Henry's Orders of Succession even if I wanted to. I don't have that kind of power."

"We realize that," Geoff replied, sounding impatient. "That's not what Father's asking for. He just wants to get a bit of face back. You've no idea how embarrassed he was when Henry sent him from court and stripped his titles."

"He should have thought of that before he stole from the king," Anne retorted. Geoff's face twisted in anger and he shoved her into the stone.

"Father wants to be named Lord Protector, and for you to make a will declaring that, should anything happen to you, he will become regent."

"Right."

"It's a reasonable precaution to take," Geoff continued, switching from anger to charm. "Arthur's only five. He can't take the throne for another ten years. A lot can happen in that time. There's always some illness sweeping the capitol. The palaces are not immune – Henry's death demonstrates that. You must make some provision for your son's future."

"Of course," Anne said. "And what happens once Father is Lord Protector?"

"Nothing happens," Geoff answered, sounding puzzled. "Arthur will remain at Stoketon. You'll go back to the palace to serve as regent. Father will come to you there if you'd like. I'm sure you'd be glad of his support and advice."

"And that's it. He just wants to support and advise me."

"Of course."

"I don't think so, Geoff. Our father is many things, but a patient man is not one of them. Do you really believe he'll be content offering advice and support while I continue to rule as regent?"

"Obviously he would prefer to be regent himself, as Henry originally promised, but you've pointed out that it's impossible for you to make that happen."

"Unless, once I make this new will, I die."

Geoff's face twisted, confusion turning to anger as he realized what she was saying. "I can't believe you would suggest… Father would never harm you, Annie, or Arthur."

"Sir!" Geoff turned at the voice and Anne could see Montague approaching. "Sir, one of the horses seems to have gone lame."

"Oh for pity… C'mon, Sister." Geoff hauled her toward the cave, moving so fast that Anne could barely keep up. By the time they went inside he was half-dragging her. He shoved her the final few feet and she stumbled, dropping to her hands and knees.

"Remember what I said, Annie. This can all be over quickly if you're a good girl. Do your pet a favor and cooperate." Geoff stalked away, shouting to one of the men, and she got to her feet, rubbing her sore arm. The Doctor looked over at her as she sat beside him.

"You'd better eat," she told him, nodding at the bread in his lap. "It won't be long before we're going. They're concerned that we've lingered too long already."

He held out one of the pieces. "You'd better have some too. Anne nodded. She didn't want to move her right arm; it was very sore from Geoff's grip. She took the bread with her left hand instead, not missing the way the Doctor noticed. Her stomach was still churning from the confrontation with her brother but she forced herself to eat. The Doctor was quiet beside her, lost in his own thoughts as he absently munched his piece of bread. Anne tried to force herself to think about escape, but her mind kept going back to her conversation with Geoff. He'd been shocked by her suggestion that her father might harm her. _What does he think is happening here?_ Anne wondered, shaking her head slightly. _Father will condone the torture of a stranger to get what he wants but draw the line at harming me, or my son?_ For a moment she was filled with pity for her brother. _He's in for a rude awakening._

A commotion sounded outside the cave and Anne paused. She looked at the Doctor, meeting his gaze. She was sure they were both thinking the same thing. _This could be our chance._ She shoved her half-eaten bread into her pocket and got to her feet, hurrying across the cave toward the entrance. She slowed as she reached the opening, trying to move quietly. She nearly yelped when Fitts leaned in, catching her wrist.

"Come with me, M'lady," he murmured. He started to tug her toward the opening but she planted her feet.

"I'm not leaving him behind," she whispered, jerking her head toward the Doctor. Fitts stared at her for a moment before sighing and charging across the cave. To her surprise, he scooped the other man up and jogged back toward her.

"Go," he hissed as he drew closer. "Hurry!" He moved past her and she ran after him. She caught a glimpse of the commotion as she ran outside; it appeared that two of the guards were fighting while her brother and a third were attempting to stop them. Fitts ran away from the fight, toward a small cluster of shrubs. Just past them stood a horse, saddled and ready to ride. He thrust the Doctor up onto its back before turning to hoist Anne as well. He settled her in front and she reached for the reigns, turning the horse away from the shrubbery.

"Thank…" she began, but a crunch sounded nearby and she fell silent. Fitts turned as Dawson stepped into view, his sword drawn.

"Go," Fitts cried, reaching out to slap the horse's rump. The animal leapt forward and the Doctor gave a startled yelp. Anne reached back with one hand to catch his good arm, drawing it around her waist as they galloped away. She wanted to look back but the horse was flying and the terrain was rough. She whispered a prayer for Fitts' safety and drew the Doctor's arm tighter around her waist.


	17. Amy

Despite being worried about the Doctor, Amy enjoyed riding behind Rory. They hadn't really had a chance to greet each other properly with all the men watching (and then arguing). Riding with him gave her a chance to put her arms around him. It wasn't as nice as a proper embrace, but it would do for now. There'd be time to hold him, and be held by him, once they were safely back in the TARDIS with the Doctor.

As they grew closer to the crater, she felt her anxiety increase. What if the Doctor took a turn for the worse while Rory was away? What if they were too late and some permanent damage had been done? She leaned in closer to speak into Rory's ear.

"How was the Doctor when you left?" she asked. "Really."

"He… he was in pain. But he seemed… clearer than last night."

"So he'll be alright." She held her breath waiting for his answer.

"Once we get this kit to him, yes," Rory said, looking back to smile reassuringly. "He's going to be fine."

"Ok." Amy sighed in relief and returned his smile.

"We're not far now," he told her. She tightened her grip as they started down a hill. She recognized the spot where they'd held their picnic. She could hardly believe it'd been only the day before.

A shout pulled Amy's attention from the hill and she looked up to see a man on horseback, charging toward them from the direction of the crater. Rory urged the horse to go faster and as they drew closer to the man she could make out what he was yelling.

"Treachery! My lord, we've been betrayed!" The rider drew even with them, stopping his horse and panting for breath.

"What's happened, Thomas?" asked the man called Eckhart. "The queen…"

"The queen is gone, my lord. As is her brother and four of the guards: Lord Trock, Lord Dawson, Mr. Fitts, and Mr. Montague."

"How long ago did they leave?" demanded Grist, ignoring Eckhart's glower.

"We're not sure," said the man called Thomas. "One of her majesty's ladies in waiting concealed her disappearance for some time. Lord Taylor is questioning her now."

"What about the Doctor?" blurted Rory. Amy found herself holding on to him a little tighter as they waited for the answer. "My… my friend," he added when the other man looked confused.

"I don't know," the man replied, sounding sheepish. "I'm sorry. No one thought…" Their horse sprang forward as Rory sent them racing toward the crater. Amy clung to him as the men behind them shouted. They were moving at a full gallop and Amy nearly screamed as they turned to race along the edge of the crater. They moved down a slope to an entrance, charging into the camp. There were more shouts and Amy realized that at some point she'd squeezed her eyes shut. She opened them in time to see a man running toward them, waving his arms for them to stop. Rory reigned in the horse and the guard reached up to catch the bridle.

"Master Williams!" he gasped. "What…" Rory ignored him, dropping from the saddle and running into the camp. Amy stared after him for a second before she followed suit.

"Rory!" she called. "Rory, wait!" He didn't slow and she scrambled to keep him in sight. He all but dove into a tent and she raced after him, shoving the flap aside. "Rory!" She came to a stop, struggling to catch her breath as she stared at the tent's interior. The tent had a wooden floor and a stove at its center. There were two cots near the stove, but they were both empty. She blinked at them, not wanting to accept what she could see.

"He's gone," Rory said.

"Are you sure? Couldn't we have the wrong tent?"

"He was right here. I told him to stay in this cot and he promised me he would," Rory answered. He crouched down to retrieve something from the floor. When he stood, Amy could see that they were the Doctor's boots. She bit back a cry and Rory hurried to her, putting an arm around her. "Amy, I'm so sorry." She reached out to take the boots, running her thumb over a scuff on one heel.

"What do we do now?" she asked.

"Is he here?" called Grist. Amy turned as he stepped into the tent, blinking back tears. He looked at the boots in her hands and sighed. "I'm sorry."

"We have to get him back," Amy told him.

Grist nodded. "That would be your priority."

"Of course it's…" Amy began. Rory put a hand on her arm and she looked at him. "What?"

"Their queen is missing, Amy," he said gently.

"And the Doctor is with her," she retorted, looking back to Grist. "If we find him, we find her."

"Possibly," Grist said.

"Well, c'mon then." Amy started for the tent door. "Let's go find them." She pushed past Grist to step outside. Rory came after her, catching up to her after she'd taken a few steps.

"Amy…" They both came to a stop, staring at the scene before them. There were nearly thirty people clustered about, and it seemed as though most of them were talking. Eckhart was at the center of the crowd, shouting futilely for quiet. Amy felt movement behind her and turned to see Grist emerging from the tent. He moved past them and the crowd seemed to part at his approach, leaving him a clear path to Eckhart. Amy went after him, Rory right behind her. A stunned silence had come over the crowd at his appearance and as he moved he left a wake of whispers. Amy heard several people say his name, sounding stunned or awestruck. _Who is this guy?_ she wondered.

"Was he there?" Eckhart asked, looking past Grist to Rory.

"No," Rory said. "He's gone."

"It was a trick!" A man beside Eckhart spoke up, his voice shaking as he lifted a hand to point at Rory. "This was all a trick to get to the queen!"

"What? No!" Rory protested as murmurs ripped through the crowd. Amy saw hands dropping toward sword hilts and felt her heart start to race.

"Don't be ridiculous, Taylor," snapped Grist, reaching out to take the boots from her hand. "The man would hardly have left his shoes behind if running off was his idea." A brief silence fell as the men stared at the boots. Hands dropped away from sword hilts and Amy let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"Why would they have taken him?" Eckhart asked. "The man was injured. He'll only slow them down."

"It probably has something to do with the fact that Geoff is a sadistic little bastard," Grist replied. Amy gasped and the man turned toward her.

"You… you think he'll hurt him?" Rory asked, reaching out to catch her hand.

"It's possible," Grist said. "More likely he'll threaten to hurt him in order to get Anne to cooperate."

"What could Lord Ormond possibly want that would require this?" asked the man called Taylor.

"Power, wealth…" began Eckhart. Grist rolled his eyes and cut him off.

"I doubt that Geoff wants anything," he said.

"He's kidnapped his sister. He must want something," protested Eckhart.

"Oh for pity's sake," Grist snapped. "You both know Geoff Ormond. The fool hasn't ever had an original thought in his head. Do you really think he came up with this idea all on his own?"

Taylor frowned. "Then who…"

"His father," supplied Grist wearily.

"Theodore Ormond was banished from court three years ago," Eckhart said. "His Majesty stripped him of many titles and lands as well."

"And now that Henry's dead he sees an opportunity to get back what he lost," Grist replied. "He's probably used Geoff to keep tabs on Anne all this time, until finally he saw his opportunity."

"Does this mean you know where they're going?" asked Amy, speaking quickly before the conversation could continue. As fascinating as all this history was, standing around discussing it wasn't getting them any closer to the Doctor.

"Always to the point," murmured Grist, giving her a half-smile.

"I'm afraid knowing who's behind this doesn't really help us find the queen," Eckhart said grimly. "Theodore Ormond's estate is nowhere near here. They must have another destination in mind."

"I've questioned the woman, Lavina, but she claims not to know where they were going," Taylor said.

"Can't we track them?" Amy asked, fighting hard to keep panic out of her voice.

"We can try," Eckhart answered grimly. "The ground around here is very rocky. They won't leave many traces."

"Your first priority should be getting to Stoketon and ensuring the safety of the prince," Grist said.

"We have to rescue the queen," Eckhart protested.

"Ormond's taken Anne so he can use her to get to His Majesty. Your first duty is to protect your future king."

"I know my duty," Eckhart snarled.

"Then you'll see to the security of Prince Arthur."

"But you can't just abandon Queen Anne!" Rory protested.

"Grist is right. Our first duty is to see to the safety of the prince," Eckhart said, his voice full of regret. Grist nodded, turning away from the cluster of men and walking back toward the tent. Amy moved after him, jogging to keep up with his long strides.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, reaching out to catch his arm.

"There's nothing for me to do," Grist replied.

"You can go after the queen!"

"Go after your friend you mean," Grist said.

"It's the same thing," Amy insisted. Grist shook his head and she pressed on. "Eckhart may be duty-bound to protect the prince but you're not. You can rescue your queen, and yes, save my friend at the same time."

"And why should I do that?" Grist asked. "Why shouldn't I just go home, leave her to her fate?"

"She's… she's your queen," Amy said, baffled by his reaction. "Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"Not particularly."

"I don't believe you. You wouldn't be answering her summons if that were true."

"Perhaps I answered her summons because I wanted a chance to tell her my opinion of her face to face." Grist folded his arms across his chest, frowning at Amy. Rory joined them, looking from one to the other.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Lord Grist was about to explain to me what his problem is with the queen," Amy replied. She could hear gravel crunching as someone else approached them but she kept her gaze fixed on Grist. Eckhart stepped up beside Rory, seemingly oblivious to the tension.

"Grist, I will be taking a party of my men directly to Stoketon. A half-dozen of them will remain here to assist you in the search for the queen," he said.

"You'll have to find someone else to lead them," Amy replied, continuing to glare at Grist. "Randy here says he's leaving."

"What?" Eckhart looked confused for a moment before his face turned angry. "Whatever your personal feelings for her are, she is still your queen. You're honor-bound to help her."

"You're going to talk to _me_ about honor?" Grist's voice was low and menacing.

"Yes I am," Eckhart answered. "I understand your anger with the woman, but this is not about her. This is about your queen and regent, and His Majesty's _mother_."

"Your prince is just a little boy," Amy said quietly. "He's already lost his father. Would you really let him lose his mother too?" Grist looked away from her, his jaw working.

"It's highly unlikely I can save his mother," he said at last.

"At least you'll be able to tell him you tried."

"Hmph." Grist looked back at her, his eyes narrowed. "Don't pretend to me you care about that little boy. You want to rescue your friend."

"I lost my parents once, when I was a little girl. I wouldn't wish that on any child," Amy shot back. "And my friend – he got them back for me. If it weren't for him…" She stopped, blinking back tears as she remembered her wedding day. It had been such a shock, and such a joy, to have her Mum and Dad again. She hadn't understood it, not until she saw River's diary and remembered the Doctor. So much had come rushing back then – losing her parents, her lonely life with Aunt Sharon, all the psychiatrists. The Doctor had put all that right, save the psychiatrists. She couldn't seem to escape them in any timeline. She wiped at her eyes and Rory put his arms around her, pulling her close as he glared at Grist.

"We have to find him, with or without your help," he said firmly. Grist looked at them both and sighed.

"Very well."


	18. Rory

Rory had watched Amy with a mixture of pride and apprehension. She'd pushed and persisted, arguing with Grist about searching for the queen and the Doctor. At last the man had consented to lead the effort. He and Eckhart had moved off, each calling out orders to their men. Guards moved about the crater, some gathering supplies while others shooed members of the queen's entourage back to their tents. It seemed like they were finally going to get moving when the mist started. Grist had sent Rory and Amy to the tent to take shelter, promising to come get them when things were ready. They hadn't been in the tent long when the mist turned to rain. Grist joined them shortly after that, shaking off a rain-drenched cloak as he stepped into the tent.

"I've sent two men out to try and find their trail," he'd announced. "They'll mark the way for us. We'll follow when the rain passes." Amy had protested, but Grist had remained adamant. He didn't want to soak all of his men and horses, and there were things in camp he needed to attend to before they left. He'd walked out in the midst of one of Amy's arguments and hadn't returned. The sun had set not long after, and the camp had fallen quiet.

The rain continued through the evening and Amy spent most of the time pacing. After a couple of hours, Rory wasn't sure which sound he found more irritating – the patter of drops on the canvas or the sound of Amy's boots on the wooden floor. He found himself gritting his teeth as she made her umpteenth turn.

"Would you just settle somewhere?" he asked.

"Excuse me for being worried," she retorted, not breaking stride. "The Doctor's out there somewhere, in the hands of a sadistic bastard…"

"And it's my fault," Rory finished. To his surprise, Amy stopped pacing.

"I wasn't saying that," she told him.

"But you're thinking it," he answered, getting to his feet. He walked up and down the length of the cot as he continued. "If I'd stayed here with him the way I was supposed to, maybe the queen wouldn't have been with him when Geoff made his move. Maybe he'd be safe." He broke off when Amy sprang toward him. For a second he thought she was going to hit him, but she stopped, her face close to his.

"Don't you tell me what I'm thinking, Rory Williams," she said. Then she reached out to grab his jacket front, pulling him toward her and kissing him. For a second he was too stunned to respond, and by the time he moved his arms up to return her embrace she was pulling away.

"What… what was that for?" he asked when he had breath enough to speak.

"If you'd stayed Geoff might have taken you too."

"So… you're not mad at me for abandoning the Doctor?"

"Of course I'm mad," Amy replied, smacking his arm.

"Oh…kay."

"I'm just… glad you're here," she said, ducking her head. Rory nodded and reached out to pull her close. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest.

One of Grist's men brought them supper a short time later. He told them that Eckhart's party had departed for Stoketon a few hours earlier, and that Grist would be leaving most of the men Eckhart had assigned him in the camp to guard the remaining entourage as well as ensure that none of them left. They did not want rumors of the queen's abduction spread. He asked if they needed anything else before leaving them to their meal. When they finished eating, Rory moved the two cots together before slipping off his shoes and stretching out on one of them.

"How can you sleep at a time like this?" Amy demanded.

"I'm not sleeping," Rory said, smothering a yawn. "I'm just lying down."

"Hmph." Amy resumed her pacing and Rory let his eyes shut. He didn't really expect to sleep, but after his restless night and busy day, he drifted off. He was vaguely aware of Amy slipping into the other cot and reaching out to cover his hand with hers and then he knew nothing.

The first thing he noticed when he woke was that Amy had resumed her pacing. The second thing he noticed was that the rain had finally stopped. He sat up quickly in his cot and Amy turned to look at him.

"Finally," she muttered, not breaking stride.

"Wha… what's going on?" Rory asked, swinging his legs over the side of the cot and rubbing at his face. He needed to shave. _And shower_ , he thought, grimacing as he realized this was his third day in these clothes.

"Nothing," Amy said tersely. "I've been listening but it doesn't sound like anyone's awake out there."

"How long have you been up?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "It was still dark out, but the rain had stopped."

"Well, let's go see who we can get moving," Rory suggested, reaching for his shoes. He laced up his trainers and Amy scraped her hair back into a pony-tail. They splashed a little water on their faces from a bucket near the door, attempting to wipe away some grittiness before stepping outside.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon and the crater was bathed in pale sunlight. A thin mist hung above the ground and the air was chill. Rory was glad he'd grabbed the extra jumpers. He zipped his jacket up and turned slowly, looking around the camp. Amy followed suit. After a moment he made out the faint sound of voices coming from across the crater. He nudged Amy and they moved toward the sound.

They moved past a row of tents and found a cluster of men standing around a fire, talking quietly. One of them looked over at their approach, his eyes going wide. He turned from the group and hurried toward a nearby tent. Rory glanced at Amy, arching his brows. She shrugged.

"I think I saw him the night I met Grist," she said.

"What did you do to him?" he asked.

"I didn't do anything to him," she protested.

"Good morning," called one of the men at the fire. Rory recognized the man called Taylor.

"Good morning," he called back, lifting his hand in a wave. He and Amy quickened their steps to reach the fire.

"Where is everyone else?" Amy asked, looking at the small group.

"Lord Eckhart and his party left yesterday, shortly before the rain started," Taylor replied. "The rest of Her Majesty's party is still a-bed."

"They're all still here?" Rory asked. "None of them went with Eckhart?"

"We don't know who's to be trusted," Taylor said quietly. "Lord Eckhart and Lord Grist decided the whole party should remain here, under guard."

"They are not to know they're under guard, Taylor." Grist's voice came from nearby and Rory turned to see him approaching from a nearby tent, the young man who'd run off following him. "As far as they are concerned, you and your men are here to protect them."

"Of course," Taylor replied, nodding. "We will keep the whole lot safe, and no word of what's happened here will spread."

"Good," Grist replied. He looked to Amy and Rory. "I suppose it's impossible to expect you to stay behind, Mistress Pond."

"Yep." Amy crossed her arms across her chest. "Now stop stalling and let's get going." Grist's lips twitched for a second before he turned his gaze to Rory.

"You heard her," Rory said, working hard to keep from stuttering. "Let's go." Grist smiled and turned to his men, firing off a list of orders. The group started moving, some gathering up supplies and other tending to the horses. Rory left Amy at the fire, returning to their tent to retrieve the med kit, the Doctor's boots, and the jumper he'd grabbed for him. One of Grist's men met him on his return trip to the fire and took the items, promising to put them in Rory's saddlebags.

When he returned to the fire, Amy passed him a sandwich and a mug of something that tasted like coffee. They stood by the fire while they ate and drank, watching the activity around them. Horses were being saddled and the occupants of the other tents were starting to stir, poking their heads out to see what all the commotion was. Grist was conversing with Taylor, issuing more instructions.

"He knows how to get things moving," Amy murmured, tossing the crust of her sandwich into the fire.

"I just hope his men were able to find some traces before the rain started," Rory replied, taking a last drink of his beverage. He took Amy's empty mug from her, looking around for a place to leave them. There was a table nearby, with a basin on it. A woman was washing dishes and as he drew near, Rory was surprised to recognize one of the queen's ladies-in-waiting. She had an apron on over her gown and her hair was scraped back into a simple bun instead of the more elaborate up-do she'd worn before.

"Nell?" She looked up, startled, and her eyes went wide. Rory set the mugs he was carrying down, reaching out to steady her when she swayed. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes," Nell replied, drawing back.

"Are you supposed to be here?" Rory asked. He remembered someone saying one of the queen's ladies-in-waiting had concealed her disappearance.

"I offered to help," she said, lifting the mugs Rory had brought and dropping them into her basin. "Lord Taylor is not convinced that I wasn't part of Lord Ormond's plot, but someone has to do the dishes so here I am." She shrugged.

"It's… it's good of you…" Rory began, unsure how to respond. He yelped when Nell suddenly lunged forward, catching hold of his wrist.

"I swear to you, I was not a part of this. My loyalty is to Her Majesty." Nell's grip tightened and she lowered her voice. "You're going with them to find her, aren't you?"

"Ye… yes." There was a crunch of gravel and Rory glanced back to see Amy approaching.

"You must be careful," Nell hissed, tugging on his wrist. He turned back to her, taking in her flushed face and wide eyes.

"I… I will," he told her, trying to pull away from her grip. "You can let go of me now."

"I do not trust Lord Grist," Nell continued, not letting up the pressure on his wrist. "He does not care for the queen."

"Oi!" Amy protested, stepping up to them. "Let go of my husband."

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," Nell murmured, releasing his wrist and turning back to the dishes. Her hands shook as she lifted one of the mugs and began to wash it. An awkward silence fell. Amy was clearly irritated, but Rory was reluctant to move away. He was hoping Nell would tell him more.

"What's this then?" Amy asked finally, looking from Nell to Rory.

"Um, Amy, this is Nell. She's one of Her Majesty's ladies. Nell, this is my wife, Amy."

"Looks like you've been demoted," Amy said, nodding toward the dishes. "C'mon, Rory. Let's go." She tugged on his arm and he turned.

Nell called after them. "Remember what I told you, Master Williams, and be careful."

"What's she talking about?" Amy asked, keeping her voice low as they moved toward the crater entrance.

"She warned me about Grist. She doesn't trust him."

"Why?"

"I didn't get to ask," Rory said, "but he was reluctant to go after the queen."

"Eckhart wasn't surprised by it either," Amy murmured. "He said something before, about Grist having been away from court for a long time."

"And not knowing where his loyalties lie," Rory added, remembering the argument outside the TARDIS.

"But Grist is loyal," Amy protested, shaking her head. "He's only here because he was answering a summons from the queen. And he was worried about the prince being protected."

"He didn't want to go rescue Queen Anne though," Rory replied.

"Eckhart said something… about whatever his feelings for her as a woman were. Something happened between them." Amy looked at Rory, her face full of dismay.

"Eckhart knew about it, and he still left Grist to see to her rescue," Rory replied. "He obviously thinks he can trust him." A shout made them both look up.

"What's kept you? I thought you two were in a hurry!" called Grist. He was waiting near the crater's entrance with a cluster of men and horses. Rory glanced at Amy and she gave him a slight nod, reaching out to catch his hand.

"We're coming!" he called to Grist, returning Amy's grip as they hurried toward the group.


	19. The Doctor

The Doctor felt his hearts pounding as Anne drew closer to the cave entrance. The sounds of the commotion seemed to grow louder. Suddenly Fitts appeared, reaching out to catch the queen's wrist. The Doctor struggled to get to his feet, trying to use the cave wall for leverage. Fitts was saying something to Anne, who'd planted her feet and was refusing to budge. He dropped her wrist, looking aggravated, and charged toward the Time Lord. The Doctor was startled to find himself scooped up and carried toward the cave opening.

"Go! Hurry!" Fitts hissed at the queen as they ran past her. The Doctor caught a glimpse of two men fighting as they dashed outside and then he was being launched up onto the back of a horse. The queen landed in front of him a moment later. She settled her feet in the stirrups and caught the reins, turning the horse. She'd started to say something to Fitts when another guard ran toward them, wielding a sword. Fitts sent them flying with a smack on the horse's rump and the Doctor let out a startled yelp. He started to look back to see what was happening behind them but he nearly lost his balance. Anne drew his good arm around her waist, gripping his wrist firmly.

"Hang on tight," she ordered, leaning forward over the horse's neck. He followed suit, trying to keep his balance as they galloped away. He could hear the clash of metal against metal and the sounds of shouting behind them but he didn't try to look again.

The ride was rough and most of his pain from the previous day returned quickly. His head was throbbing in earnest and his shoulder was in agony. Each jarring step made it worse and he soon lost his sense of time passing. All he could hear was the sound of his hearts pumping in his ears and the thudding of their horse's hooves against the ground. He concentrated on the feel of his hand on the queen's waist and shut his eyes, hoping they'd be able to slow down soon.

After what seemed like an eternity, the horse did slow. The Doctor's relief was short-lived, however. Anne's grip tightened on his wrist.

"Duck," she commanded, pulling him with her as she leaned down over the horse. He felt something brush the back of his head as he leaned forward. The horse was no longer at a full gallop but they were still moving quickly and their new position was uncomfortable. His bad arm was in a sling, trapped between their bodies. The throbbing from his injured shoulder increased even as he felt more things brush at the back of his head. Anne finally sat up, moving him with her and he opened his eyes, swaying a little in the saddle. He wasn't surprised to see that they were in a forest.

"We need to get off this path," Anne murmured. "We're too easy to track here."

"Do you know where we are?" he asked. The path she referred to was barely visible to him. All he could see in any direction were trees.

"I believe this is the Ostem Woods," she replied. "Are you alright back there?"

"I'll manage," the Doctor replied. The pain in his shoulder was easing now that he wasn't leaning on it and he could feel the throbbing in his head slowing along with the horse's steps.

They rode on, moving off the trail, and for some time all the Doctor thought about was the need to watch for low-hanging branches. They settled into a steady rhythm of ducking and dodging as the horse walked along. The Doctor's shoulder continued to throb but the ache in his head quieted and his stomach settled. From time to time Anne stopped the horse and they both listened, straining to hear any sounds of pursuit.

"I think we've lost them," Anne murmured at last. "There's a clearing ahead. We can stop there for a few minutes, let the horse rest."

When they reached the clearing, Anne slipped down from the saddle before turning to help the Doctor. She settled him at the base of a tree before returning to the horse to retrieve a canteen. She passed it to the Doctor, who took a cautious swallow before handing it back. He wasn't sure he trusted his stomach just yet. Anne took a drink before returning the canteen to him.

"Wait here," she said quietly. "I'm going to take a look around." She didn't wait for an answer before moving away. The Doctor let his head sag back against the tree and shut his eyes. Anne's footsteps slowly faded until all he could hear were the soft sounds of the woods. He found himself wondering where Amy and Rory were. He hoped they were together. _I should've told Rory about the emergency protocols yesterday_ , he thought. _Just in case. Amy wouldn't like it, but at least they'd be home._

He wasn't sure how long Anne was gone - the pain in his head was interfering with his sense of time again – but when she returned he could feel that something was wrong. She didn't greet him, instead going straight across the clearing to the horse. She started looking in the saddle bags, keeping her face turned away from him. The horse rolled its eyes and the Doctor realized that her shoulders were shaking. He used the tree-trunk behind him and managed to stand, balancing on his good foot.

"Anne?" he asked softly, and she started. She moved around to the other side of the horse, keeping her face hidden.

"Doctor. I… I'm sorry," she said, her voice sounding strained. "I didn't mean to leave you so long."

"Are you… crying?" asked the Doctor. He cringed at the thought; in nine hundred and seven years he still hadn't learned how to handle a crying woman. Did he ask what was wrong? Sometimes that seemed to make the woman more upset. He couldn't just ignore the crying, could he? No, it was too late for that. He'd already acknowledged it. He hobbled toward her, using the trees around the edge of the clearing for support.

"I'm fine," Anne replied, continuing to keep the horse between them. "I… I'm sorry I worried you."

"You didn't…" He stopped, biting back a yelp as he landed on a sharp stone. He hopped off the rock, wincing at the soreness in his foot.

"Are you alright?" Anne stepped out from behind the horse.

"I stepped on a rock," he answered, wobbling a little. She moved to help him and he could see that her eyes were puffy. _Definitely crying then_. She reached him and slipped under his good arm, letting him lean on her.

"Where are your shoes?" she asked, helping him toward another tree.

"In the tent," he replied.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize." She settled him against the tree and looked away, staring across the clearing.

"It's not as if we planned this trip," he told her, watching her warily. She'd just sniffled and he had a horrible feeling that she was about to start crying again. He had no idea what to do.

"I'm sorry," she said again, ducking her head. "I can't… We don't have time for this… weakness."

"You're not weak," he protested. She snorted and he continued. "You're not. Look at what you've done over the last two days – standing up to your brother, taking care of me, plotting escape, convincing a traitor to help us, getting us here…" He let his voice trail off. Her shoulders were shaking and he realized she was sobbing. _Well,_ _that_ _didn't work_ , he thought. _Why can't someone write a manual for this?_ He made sure he was steady on his foot before reaching out to touch her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, making a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a sob. "I can't seem to stop. I've picked a fine time to fall apart."

"You're not falling apart," the Doctor said, patting her shoulder awkwardly. "You're just… having a little cry."

"I … I don't know what to do now," she said, wiping at her eyes. "I want to go to my son – see that he's alright and just hold him."

"That's perfectly natural."

"It's perfectly foolish," she replied. "The first thing my men should have done once they realized I'd been taken was see to the security of the prince. There should be a dozen royal guards at Stoketon by now, ensuring that nothing happens to Arthur."

"None of them would come after you?"

"They shouldn't. I'm only regent. Arthur is heir to the throne."

"But?"

"Eckhart, my captain, is very loyal to me. He went with your friend to search for his wife so he'll also be feeling guilty about leaving me. He might do something foolish and come after me."

"My friends can be very… persuasive," the Doctor said, smiling a little. He could just picture Amy turning loose her ginger wrath on the queen's guards. "They'd be insistent about attempting a rescue."

"Alright," Anne said, starting to pace as she talked. The Doctor watched with envy, wishing he could move too. "In all likelihood there is a party out searching for us. They would have been delayed – Geoff seemed confident that my treacherous ladies-in-waiting would have concealed my disappearance for some time. Once it was discovered there would have been confusion and the men would have wanted to wait for Eckhart's return. The weather slowed us down, but they would have had to deal with it too. I'd guess any searchers are at least a half-day behind us, probably more."

"Geoff and his men are between us and them." Anne was still pacing and the Doctor sagged against the tree. _It's exhausting just watching her_ , he thought. _Is this how Amy and Rory feel when I get going?_

"Yes. Geoff will be feeling pretty desperate by now. He doesn't handle set-backs well, and he's terrified of disappointing our father. The longer we're missing, the more panicked he'll become."

"How would he react to the search party?"

"He can't risk a confrontation, not with the men he has around him. They're in this for whatever my father's promised them – wealth and titles no doubt. They can't collect those if they're dead." Anne sighed, her pacing picking up speed. "The trouble is, Geoff probably doesn't realize that. He might have deluded himself into thinking these men are loyal to him. If he isn't careful, he'll get himself killed."

"You're worried for him."

"He's still my brother. He was very good to me after Henry died. I should have realized he was doing our father's bidding but I hoped... This is his doing, not my brother's. Geoff's just a tool, something he can use to get what he wants." The Doctor waited while she blinked back a fresh wave of tears. After a moment she spoke again. "We can't stay here. We need to find someplace to hide until the searchers can catch up to us."

"Alright," the Doctor said, nodding. "Where do we go?"

"These woods are part of an estate – they're hunting grounds. There are shelters and blinds all over in here. We just need to find one and stay there," Anne said, moving to help him. She drew his arm over her shoulders and they started toward the horse.

"A blind would be good," the Doctor agreed, wincing as he found another stone. "We'd be able to see anyone approaching." They reached the horse and stopped, catching their breath. The Doctor looked at the stirrups and the saddle, wondering how they were going to manage to get him back up.

"I'm sorry about before," Anne said, her face flushing. "Sobbing like a baby – some queen I am." She ducked her head and he reached out to lift her chin.

"From what I've seen, you're a very good queen." He held her gaze for a second before letting go. He started to turn toward the horse but she took a half-step toward him.

"Thank you," she murmured, her breath ghosting across his jaw as she went up on tip-toe. Her lips had just touched his cheek when they heard the sound of a twig snapping nearby.


	20. Anne

The ride away from Geoff and his men was unpleasant. The horse was moving at a full gallop and the terrain was rough. The jarring was uncomfortable for Anne and she could only imagine how the Doctor felt. She kept one hand on his wrist, holding his good arm around her waist. Despite her efforts she felt him sway more than once.

They had to slow when they entered the forest, and duck to avoid tree branches. For a long time they didn't talk; they were each preoccupied with spotting low-hanging branches and ducking or dodging them. The Doctor didn't complain but Anne could feel his breath against her neck. He gasped more than once and his breathing grew faster as they moved along. They stopped from time to time but Anne heard no signs of pursuit. When she spotted a clearing up ahead she decided they could stop. The Doctor needed to rest and she wanted to take a look around.

She helped the Doctor down from the horse, taking in his pallor and the lines of pain in his face. She settled him under a tree, leaning back against the trunk. She offered him water but he only took one drink before handing the canteen back to her. She took a drink and returned the canteen to him.

"Wait here. I'm going to take a look around," she told him. She didn't wait for him to answer before moving away. She made her way carefully from the clearing and back toward where she thought the path was. She paused frequently, listening for any sounds of anyone approaching. To her relief, all she heard were the sounds of the forest. She finally reached the path and found it empty. There were no signs of hoof-prints or foot-prints. No one had been here for some time. She leaned back against a tree, breathing a sigh of relief. They'd managed it; they'd gotten away.

Anne's relief was short-lived. When they'd run all she'd worried about was getting away. Now she realized she wasn't sure just where they'd gotten to. She knew they were in the Ostem Woods, but that wasn't much help. The woods were massive and she wasn't sure where they were in them. Were they close to the Ostem Manor House, or were they on the opposite side of the forest? Should they try to reach the house, or go elsewhere? To her horror Anne felt tears starting. She blinked furiously, trying to keep them back, but they just kept coming. A lump was filling her throat. She buried her face in her hands as she started to sob.

Once the floodgates opened, Anne couldn't seem to stop. She wasn't sure how long she stood against the tree, sobbing uncontrollably as her mind raced. _You're an idiot_ , she berated herself. _Your whole plan was_ _escape_ _. That was it. You didn't think about where to go, how you'd manage to get there. And it's not just you who's in trouble here. There's an innocent bystander back there, already injured, who's been caught up in all this._ It was the realization that the Doctor was waiting for her that made her stop. She pushed herself up, willing the tears to stop, and took several gulps of air.

"This isn't helping," she whispered, needing to hear the words out-loud. "You're hungry and over-tired and you're letting it wear you down." She scrubbed at her face with her hands, trying to wipe away tear-traces, and took several more deep breaths before she started for the clearing.

The Doctor was waiting where she'd left him, his head tipped back against the tree trunk and his eyes closed. He looked pained and Anne felt her tears start up again. She hurried on to the horse, keeping her face turned away as the man stirred. She dug in to the saddle bags, searching for food. It was past mid-day by now and all they'd had to eat was some bread. The man had to be hungry. Her tears increased as she found nothing edible.

"Anne?" The Doctor's voice came behind her and she moved, keeping her head down as she went round to the other side of the horse.

"Doctor. I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to leave you so long." She busied herself searching the saddle bags. She sniffled, trying to hold back a sob as she realized there was nothing for them to eat.

"Are you… crying?" The Doctor's voice sounded strained. Anne wiped at her eyes, trying to compose herself.

"I'm fine," she said. "I… I'm sorry I worried you."

"You didn't…" His reply was cut off by a hiss of pain and Anne moved to see what was happening. He was nearby, balancing on one foot while holding on to a tree trunk with his good arm.

"Are you alright?"

"I stepped on a rock," he said. Anne looked at his feet, surprised to find that he wasn't wearing any shoes. He wobbled a little and she hurried to help him, slipping under his good arm so he could lean on her as she helped him move to another tree.

"Where are your shoes?"

"In the tent."

"I'm sorry," she said, feeling stupid. "I didn't realize."

"It's not as if we planned this trip." There was no recrimination in his tone but somehow that made her feel worse.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, ducking her head as tears welled up. "I can't… We don't have time for this… weakness."

"You're not weak," the Doctor said, sounding baffled. Anne snorted and he went on. "You're not. Look at what you've done over the last two days – standing up to your brother, taking care of me, plotting escape, convincing a traitor to help us, getting us here…" Anne's tears kept coming and he let his voice trail off. After a moment she felt his hand on her shoulder, patting awkwardly. She wanted to turn and bury her face in his chest but she was afraid she'd knock him off balance again. _The last thing he needs is you bawling all over him_ , she chided herself. _Get hold of yourself already before he thinks you're a complete fool._

"I'm sorry," she choked out. "I can't seem to stop. I've picked a fine time to fall apart."

"You're not falling apart. You're just… having a little cry," he said, continuing to pat her shoulder. She wiped at her eyes, trying to calm herself.

"I … I don't know what to do now," she admitted, looking up at him. "I want to go to my son – see that he's alright and just hold him."

The Doctor nodded. "That's perfectly natural."

"It's perfectly foolish," Anne countered. "The first thing my men should have done once they realized I'd been taken was see to the security of the prince. There should be a dozen royal guards at Stoketon by now, ensuring that nothing happens to Arthur."

"None of them would come after you?"

She shook her head. "They shouldn't. I'm only regent. Arthur is heir to the throne."

"But?"

"Eckhart, my captain, is very loyal to me," she admitted. "He went with your friend to search for his wife so he'll also be feeling guilty about leaving me. He might do something foolish and come after me."

"My friends can be very… persuasive. They'd be insistent about attempting a rescue." Anne felt her panic fading as her mind turned to the problem. She paced as she talked. The Doctor stayed where he was, putting in a comment or a question from time to time but mostly letting her think out-loud.

"We can't stay here," she concluded at last. "We need to find someplace to hide until the searchers can catch up to us."

The Doctor nodded in agreement. "Alright. Where do we go?"

"These woods are part of an estate – they're hunting grounds. There are shelters and blinds all over in here. We just need to find one and stay there." Anne moved to help him to the horse, drawing his good arm over her shoulders again.

"A blind would be good," he said, huffing out the words between hops. "We'd be able to see anyone approaching." They reached the horse and came to a stop. Anne looked at the stirrups, considering options for getting the Doctor back to the saddle. It wasn't going to be pleasant. She could feel him watching her and ducked her head, her cheeks warming as she remembered how she'd broken down in front of him.

"I'm sorry about before. Sobbing like a baby – some queen I am."

"From what I've seen, you're a very good queen." He moved his arm, lifting her chin before catching his balance against the horse. His eyes locked on hers for a moment before he turned toward the animal.

"Thank you," Anne said, feeling a fresh set of tears well up at his kindness. She took a half-step toward him, going up on tip-toe to kiss his cheek. Her lips had just touched his skin when she heard the sound of a twig snapping nearby. It seemed very loud and she realized that the forest had gone quiet. She drew back, freezing with her mouth just inches from the Doctor's jaw when a voice called out.

"Who are you and what are you doing here? This is private property!" Anne moved back, taking a step to the side to see past the Doctor. A grizzled man stood near the edge of the clearing, dressed in muted shades of brown and green. His most prominent accessory was a crossbow, which was pointed toward them.

"We don't mean any harm," she called back, trying to divide her attention between the man's face and the bow. "We're just… passing through." She realized that while the business-end of the weapon was definitely pointed toward them, the man wasn't actually aiming it. He took a few steps toward them, frowning at the Doctor.

"You – turn so I can see you. Slowly," he called. The Doctor started to comply, hopping on his good foot, and Anne moved to help him. "What's wrong with him?" the stranger demanded, taking a few more steps forward.

"He's injured," Anne replied.

"I was thrown from my horse," the Doctor put in. "And then it ran off."

"You sound funny. Where are you from?"

"He's from Gaelia," Anne said quickly.

"They sure dress strange over there," the man answered, frowning at the Doctor's costume. "Where are his shoes?"

"Stolen," the Doctor suggested, glancing at Anne. She nodded and to her relief, the stranger slowly lowered his crossbow.

"You've had a rough trip."

"You've no idea," Anne murmured. The man stared at her and she spoke up. "We're sorry to have trespassed. I'm afraid we got a bit lost."

"Where are you going?"

"Hempsted," she said, naming a town on the opposite side of the woods from where they'd entered.

"You'll never get there before night-fall," the stranger told her. "You'd better come with me."

"We don't want to impose…" Anne began.

"Better to have you under my roof where I can keep an eye on you than out in the woods scaring all the game. Get back on yer horse and follow me." Anne turned to the Doctor, who lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug.

"We'll go with him," she murmured, "but let's keep my identity a secret for the time being." The Doctor nodded.

When they were both back on the horse, the stranger started off and Anne nudged the horse after him. He led them out of the clearing, pausing to collect a bag hanging from a nearby tree. There were dark stains on the bag and Anne realized the man had been out hunting.

"I have a right to hunt on this property," the stranger said, noting her attention. He shifted the bag to his other arm. "I was the old Duke's game-keeper. I still am, though there's no duke anymore. Her Majesty's been too busy to name a successor." Anne felt a nudge behind her and turned her head to whisper to the Doctor.

"The Duke died without an heir some time ago. His property is held by the crown."

"It's not right, leaving all this sitting here unused," the game-keeper continued. "I have to hunt now and then, just to keep the population under control."

"I'm sure Her Majesty wouldn't begrudge you the occasional hunt," Anne said.

"Hmph. Never know what the royals will begrudge," the man retorted.

"What's your name, Game-Keeper?" asked the Doctor.

"Fragin."

"I hope we won't be too much trouble, Mr. Fragin," Anne said. "Your wife…"

"No wife to be bothered. Just me, ma boy and ma daughter." Fragin looked over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at Anne. "I trust this gentleman's your husband. I'll not have anything untoward under my roof." Anne felt the Doctor start behind her and tightened her grip on his wrist.

"I promise you, there's nothing untoward going on," she said.

"Good. Come on then. It's not far now."


	21. Amy

Amy thought morning would never come. She barely slept during the night, consumed not only by worry for the Doctor but the fear that Grist would change his mind and refuse to lead the search party. She kept thinking about his reluctance to search for the queen. He'd said something about wanting to tell her his opinion of her to her face. Eckhart hadn't seemed surprised by Grist's response. What was it he'd said? _Whatever your personal feelings for her are, she is still your queen._ And there was something else, something about understanding Grist's anger with the "woman." She realized suddenly that she was pacing the tent again. _Good Lord, I'm turning into the Doctor_ , she thought. _What's next? Bow-ties?_ She nearly laughed at the idea, but she didn't want to wake Rory.

The sun had been up for some time when Rory stirred in his cot. They'd gone out into the camp to see if anyone was awake and found a group of men standing around a fire. They headed across the crater to join them. The young man who'd been with Grist the first night she met him spotted her coming and hurried away. Amy shrugged in response to Rory's questioning look.

"I think I saw him the night I met Grist."

"What did you do to him?" Rory asked, sounding amused.

"I didn't do anything to him."

"Good morning!" Amy looked back to the fire to see the man called Taylor waving at them.

"Good morning," answering Rory, waving back. Amy shivered in the chill air and quickened her steps, eager to reach the fire's warmth.

"Where is everyone else?" she asked. There were only a half-dozen men around the fire. Amy recognized some of them from Grist's party the day before, while others wore the black and grey uniforms of the royal guards.

"Lord Eckhart and his party left yesterday, shortly before the rain started. The rest of Her Majesty's party is still a-bed," Taylor replied.

"They're all still here? None of them went with Eckhart?" asked Rory.

Taylor shook his head, lowering his voice. "We don't know who's to be trusted. Lord Eckhart and Lord Grist decided the whole party should remain here, under guard."

"They are not to know they're under guard, Taylor. As far as they are concerned, you and your men are here to protect them." Grist strode up to the fire with the young man at his side.

"Of course. We will keep the whole lot safe, and no word of what's happened here will spread."

"Good." Grist turned toward Amy and Rory. "I suppose it's impossible to expect you to stay behind, Mistress Pond."

Amy folder her arms across her chest, trying to look stern. "Yep. Now stop stalling and let's get going." Grist's mouth lifted in a smile for a second before he shifted his eyes to Rory.

"You heard her," Rory told him. "Let's go." Grist grinned before turning to his men. He started to fire off a list of orders. Amy watched at the group started moving. Rory touched her arm, telling her he was going to get the med kit from their tent. She nodded, turning back to stare at the fire. One of the men was digging out cook-ware and she felt her stomach rumble.

By the time Rory returned, sandwiches had been prepared as well as some kind of hot beverage. Amy thought it tasted like a cross between coffee and tea. She passed one of the sandwiches and a mug to Rory. They ate in silence, watching the flames move. Activity continued around them. Men were saddling horses and heads were poking out of nearby tents as the rest of the camp began to wake up. Grist was nearby, conversing with Taylor. Amy watched him as she finished her sandwich. She tossed her crust into the fire and drained the last of her drink.

"He knows how to get things moving," she said, watching as Grist and Taylor moved away.

"I just hope his men were able to find some traces before the rain started," Rory replied. He reached out to take her empty mug and started around the fire toward a table. A blonde woman was there, washing dishes, and it was obvious that Rory recognized her. He seemed surprised by her presence. Amy started toward them slowly, watching as they spoke to each other. Suddenly the woman sprang forward, catching Rory's wrist. He gave a yelp of surprise and Amy quickened her steps. The woman said something, her expression earnest.

"Ye… yes.," Rory stuttered in reply. He turned at the sound of Amy's approach. He seemed relieved to see her. The woman tugged on his wrist and he turned his attention back to her.

"You must be careful," she said.

"I… I will. You can let go of me now," Rory replied, trying to pull away from her.

"I do not trust Lord Grist. He does not care for the queen," the woman told him, continuing to cling to him. Amy decided it was about time she put a stop to this.

"Oi! Let go of my husband."

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," the woman said, letting go of Rory. The woman turned back to her dishes and Amy waited for Rory to tell her what was going on. When he said nothing, she lost patience.

"What's this then?" she asked, looking between the two of them.

"Um, Amy, this is Nell," Rory said, gesturing toward the blonde. "She's one of Her Majesty's ladies. Nell, this is my wife, Amy."

Amy nodded toward the dishes. "Looks like you've been demoted," she told the blonde. When Rory didn't move, she tugged on his arm. "C'mon, Rory. Let's go." He turned and came with her. The woman called after them.

"Remember what I told you, Master Williams, and be careful."

"What's she talking about?"

"She warned me about Grist," Rory said. "She doesn't trust him."

"Why?"

"I didn't get to ask," he admitted, "but he was reluctant to go after the queen."

"Eckhart wasn't surprised by it either," Amy said. The conversation was starting to echo the thoughts she'd had that morning. "He said something before, about Grist having been away from court for a long time."

"And not knowing where his loyalties lie," Rory added.

She shook her head. "But Grist is loyal. He's only here because he was answering a summons from the queen. And he was worried about the prince being protected."

"He didn't want to go rescue Queen Anne though."

"Eckhart said something… about whatever his feelings for her as a woman were. Something happened between them." Amy sighed. She was back to where she'd been when Rory woke up. There was some history between Grist and the queen, but the conversations she'd heard didn't tell her enough to let her know what it was.

"Eckhart knew about it, and he still left Grist to see to her rescue. He obviously thinks he can trust him," Rory said. He looked to Amy, waiting for her to confirm his conclusion. A shout from Grist stopped her from replying.

"What's kept you? I thought you two were in a hurry!" he called. Amy turned to see that Grist was near the crater entrance. A cluster of men and horses were waiting with him, ready to ride out on the search. She looked back to Rory and nodded, reaching out to catch his hand. _Trustworthy or not, Grist is our only chance of getting to the Doctor_ , she thought.

"We're coming!" Rory called as they jogged toward the group.

Within a few minutes the search party was on the move. Amy had her own horse this time, riding alongside Rory's. Before they'd left, Grist introduced the rest of the group to Amy and Rory. She learned that the young man she'd met her first night on this planet was called Landon. He was Grist's nephew. Along with Landon was another young man called Robbard, a grizzled man called Herrond, a bearded blonde named Blane, and two of the royal guard – a sallow-skinned man called Ortel and a hulking giant called Mortan.

Grist and Landon rode at the head of the party, with Amy and Rory just behind them. From time to time Landon rode out ahead, looking for signs from the advance riders Grist had dispatched the day before. Sometimes Blane or Robbard would move up to ride alongside Grist while Landon was out searching. Amy listened closely to their conversation, but it was focused on the task at hand and offered her no clues to Grist's history with the queen.

Ortel and Mortan rode together, a little removed from the rest of the group. Amy wasn't sure if they simply preferred each other's company or if there was friction between them and Grist's party. Ortel spoke when spoken to, but Mortan never said a word. They were riding behind Amy and slightly to her right; from time to time she glanced over her shoulder in that direction. The third time she found Mortan watching her, his big face expressionless. He didn't seem embarrassed or pleased to be caught; his pale blue eyes never wavered and Amy found herself flushing and looking away. The next time she dared look again, he was still watching. This time there was a half-smile on his face. She suppressed a shudder and the next time Landon rode ahead, she moved up beside Grist. He looked over at her and smiled.

"I expected you up here an hour ago, Mistress Pond," he said, sounding both amused and resigned.

"What made you so sure I'd come up here?" Amy asked.

"You have questions for me," Grist replied, and this time he sounded more resigned than amused. Amy stared at him, surprised by his answer. She'd expected resistance. She'd expected to have to push and pry. Instead, he seemed to be inviting her interrogation. She wasn't sure how to respond. Grist glanced over at her, arching his brows at her silence. "You don't have questions?"

"I do," Amy said quickly. "I just… how do I know I can trust you?"

"I am many things, Mistress Pond, but a liar is not one of them."

"Alright." Amy glanced back at Rory but he was talking with Robbard. She turned back to Grist. "Why are you helping us?"

"You remind me of someone I used to know."

"The queen?"

"She is a red-head too," Grist replied, shrugging. The movement was casual but Amy could see that his jaw was tight. She wanted to push on and ask how he'd known the queen, but that might make him clam up. She decided to switch directions.

"Is that why Mortan keeps staring at me? Do I… look like her?"

Grist chuckled. "Your hair is actually a deeper shade of red than Her Majesty's. Well, a deeper shade than it was when I saw her last. For all I know she's coloring it now."

"How long has it been since you've seen her?"

"Six years, three months, and seven days," he said promptly. Amy's eyes widened. He hadn't had to think about it at all. Again she resisted the impulse to pounce on his answer, switching the subject back to the fixated royal guard.

"So Mortan's just mesmerized by red hair?"

"Red heads aren't that common in Umbria." Grist glanced over at her, clearly about to say more, but there was a shout ahead of them. They both turned to see Landon galloping toward them.

"Hurry!" he called. "There's a man here, badly hurt. He knows something about Her Majesty." Amy looked back to Rory, thinking of the med kit, and found him lunging ahead. His horse dashed past hers.

"Show me!' he called to Landon, and the younger man turned his animal to lead the way. Amy nudged her horse after them and Grist followed suit, staying even with her.

Landon lead them toward a cave. He stopped his horse there and Rory followed suit, tugging the med kit out of his saddle-bag before following the young man past the cave's entrance and toward a cluster of shrubs. Grist leapt from his animal but instead of charging after the men, he turned to offer Amy a hand. She accepted and together they hurried toward the shrubs.


	22. Rory

Rory and Amy didn't talk on the ride out from the crater. As much as he would have liked to continue their discussion of Grist and his relationship with the queen, he didn't want to do it where they could be overheard. They were in the midst of the search party, surrounded by Grist's men. Grist himself was just in front of them, at the head of the party. A young man called Landon rode with him, sometimes venturing out ahead to look for markers from the advance riders. Rory watched them, wishing he could overhear what they were saying.

Straining to hear Grist got old very quickly and Rory's thoughts turned to the Doctor. They were passing through rough terrain and he wondered how the Time Lord had managed on horseback with one arm in a sling. He'd been trembling with pain just from having his arm put into the sling; how would he have coped with the jarring of the ride? Grist's comments about the queen's brother being sadistic were also troubling. Why had the man taken the Doctor along with the queen? What did Geoff want with his sister in the first place? Rory couldn't see how the Doctor could possibly fit into the man's plans.

Two of the royal guards were included in the search party. Rory hadn't paid much attention to them aside from noting that they kept to themselves. The rest of the party chatted softly as they rode along, but the guards stayed silent. He couldn't see them now as Amy was blocking his view, but from time to time she glanced back in their direction. There was a furrow between her brows which grew deeper with each glance. Rory was about to ask her what was wrong when Landon rode out again. Amy swiftly moved her horse up alongside Grist's, leaving Rory a clear view of the two men. He looked over to see that the larger of the pair was staring at Amy, a half-smile on his broad face. Rory stared hard at the man and after a moment his companion caught his arm. The big man turned and the other guard said something to him. He nodded and lowered his head, looking chagrined. The smaller guard gave Rory an apologetic smile and Rory nodded before turning to face forward again.

Amy and Grist were talking and he felt a moment of alarm. It was only a matter of time before Amy started interrogating the man about his relationship with the queen. As far as he could tell their conversation was civil, but how long would that last if Amy pushed? Rory was tempted to move up beside them. It was futile to think he could stop Amy from asking questions, but maybe he could manage some damage control. He'd just nudged his horse when he heard the shout. Landon was a few yards ahead, calling to them.

"Hurry! There's a man here, badly hurt," he bellowed. "He knows something about Her Majesty." Rory gave his horse another nudge, moving past Amy and Grist even as he called out to the younger man.

"Show me!" Landon turned his horse and together they galloped forward. Rory could hear the others following but he didn't look back. When Landon brought his horse to a stop he followed suit, leaping down and retrieving the med kit from his saddle bag before following the younger man toward a clump of shrubs.

The injured man was on the ground just past the shrubs. He was clad in black and grey but it took Rory a moment to realize it was the uniform of the royal guards. The clothing was tattered, and covered in dried and drying blood. The man himself was covered in gashes, some of which were still seeping. He was breathing heavily and his face was ashen. Rory hurried toward him, wincing as he realized that the man had also been hit in the head. He kneeled carefully beside him.

"I'm going to help you," he said quietly. The man opened his eyes and stared up at him. For a second he looked confused, and then recognition dawned.

"M… Master Williams," he murmured.

"That's right," Rory said, reaching out to check the man's pulse. "What's your name?"

"Fitts."

"What happened to you?" Rory settled the case beside him and opened it, staring in at a variety of devices. He didn't think the thing that looked like a salt shaker would be helpful here, but there were many others to choose from. He reached in to examine another device and found that there was a tag attached to it. He pulled it out stare at the label, smiling as he recognized the Doctor's handwriting.

"Her Majesty… wanted to escape," Fitts said. "I… I got a… horse for her… and your friend, but… Dawson…"

"Her Majesty's escaped?" demanded Grist. Rory looked up in annoyance as the man loomed over him, frowning down at Fitts.

"Yes," Fitts answered. "She and… the Doctor… rode away."

"Where were they going?" Amy asked, joining Rory by the case. She pulled something from it – a device a little larger than a pager attached to some kind of cuff. She fitted it around Fitts' wrist as Rory studied a tag on something that resembled a tire gauge. He thought it said "For Deep Cuts," but he wasn't certain. The Doctor's handwriting wasn't easy to read to begin with and he'd written the tags with a thick-tipped marker.

"I… didn't… see," Fitts answered. His voice was growing weaker and when Amy nudged Rory, he saw that the device she held was monitoring the man's vital signs. The numbers it was showing weren't good.

"Right," he said briskly, shooting a glare at Grist. "That's enough questions for now. This man is badly hurt. I need all of you to move back so I can treat him."

"The man is mortally wounded," Grist replied quietly. "If you want to find your friend, you'll let us question him while he can still speak."

"We can save him," Rory said, reaching for the tire gauge/cut mender.

"Are you sure of that?" Grist asked. Rory opened his mouth to protest and closed it again as he realized he was far from certain. He believed he could repair Fitts' injuries, but the man had lost a lot of blood. There wasn't a tool in the case for that. He glanced at Amy to find her watching him uncertainly.

"We can't just let him die," he said. "The Doctor wouldn't want that, and I don't believe Queen Anne would either." Amy slowly nodded and Rory turned back to Fitts, trying to decide where to start. There were so many gashes.

"Your advance riders are still out there, aren't they?" Amy asked Grist.

"They've obviously lost the trail," he replied tersely. "Otherwise they would have found this man. We need to know what he can tell us."

"You can talk to him when Rory's finished," Amy said firmly. Rory looked up to see Grist frowning at him.

"I hope you know what you're doing. He's our best chance of finding Anne and your friend." He turned to stalk away, leaving Rory and Amy to look after the injured man.

An hour later they'd done what they could. Rory had been able to close Fitts' gashes with the cut mender. Unfortunately, the man had fallen unconscious not long after Grist moved away. The monitor Amy'd attached showed his vital signs were steady, but the numbers weren't where Rory wanted them.

"What do we do now?" Amy asked.

"We need to get him off the ground," Rory said. "Keep him warm and comfortable so he can rest."

"Ok. I'll talk to Grist." Amy gave his shoulder a squeeze and got to her feet.

When Amy returned a few minutes later, Grist and Landon were with her. Grist was in the lead, his gaze focused on Rory and Fitts. Landon was behind him, with Amy. He was carrying a rough wool blanket and talking to her.

"We found the remains of a fire in the cave. They obviously camped here last night."

"He's unconscious," Grist said, coming to a stop beside Rory and crouching down to study Fitts.

"He lost a lot of blood," Rory replied.

"Will he live?"

"I don't know," Rory admitted. "He has a chance of surviving now."

"But we have no chance to ask him any more questions."

"Not until he wakes up."

"If he wakes up." Grist got to his feet and moved away. Rory watched him walk off before turning his attention back to his patient. Fitts was breathing steadily and his color was improving. Grist's warning came back to him. _If you want to find your friend, you'll let us question him while he can still speak._ Rory could only hope Fitts would be speaking again soon.


	23. The Doctor

The Doctor had been relieved when the stranger lowered his cross-bow. He and Anne had ad-libbed a story but he hadn't been sure how long they could keep it up, or how well they'd stand up to questions. The man had told them to follow him and they'd turned to the task of getting the Doctor back into the saddle. It had left him gasping and light-headed. Anne had drawn his good arm around her waist again, covering his hand with hers. The game-keeper, Fragin, walked ahead of them. There'd been one awkward moment when he'd assumed Anne and the Doctor were married, but the queen had kept her head and neatly side-stepped the issue. He had apparently found her non-answer satisfying because he hadn't asked any more questions of them.

Fragin kept up a steady stream of chatter as they moved along. The Doctor only half-listened, until he felt Anne tense. He realized the game-keeper had turned to the subject of the empty manor again.

"I don't envy the new duke, assuming Her Majesty ever gets 'round to namin' 'im. The servants at the Manor have gotten above themselves. Whoever's awarded the dukedom will have his work cut out for him, gettin' that lot back into their places," he informed them. "Mind, knowin' the nobles these days the new duke won't be at the Manor much." Anne nudged the Doctor and he realized that Fragin was looking back at them expectantly. The Doctor wasn't sure what he should say. The subject was obviously bothering Anne, but it seemed preferable to being asked more questions about themselves. He wasn't sure how much longer they could keep up their story without getting caught in a mistake.

"Why do you think that?" he asked at last. If Fragin was bothered by his delayed response, he didn't show it.

"Seems like all the noblemen stay at court these days," he answered, turning away as he continued. "I hear Her Majesty has them all enthralled. Some say she's a witch." Anne stiffened at his words but the game-keeper continued, oblivious to her reaction. "I don't hold with that nonsense myself. It wouldn't have taken any magic to seduce King Henry and I doubt any's needed with the rest of that lot either. She's no better than …"

"Is it much farther, Mr. Fragin?" Anne's voice shook slightly and the Doctor moved his hand to cover hers, squeezing gently.

"Not much further, Ma'am," Fragin replied irritably. He looked back at them and whatever he saw in Anne's face turned his frown from one of annoyance to one of concern. "You've gone pale. You're not going to faint, are you?"

"I'm alright," Anne said, lacing her fingers through the Doctor's. "It's just been… a difficult day."

"You look done in," Fragin told her, giving her a gap-toothed smile that was probably meant to be reassuring. "It's not far now and my girl will fix you up. Some food and some sleep is what you pair need."

"You're right," Anne replied. "Thank you." Fragin nodded and turned to face forward again. He quickened his steps and the horse followed suit.

The game-keeper was quiet now and the Doctor found himself thinking about Anne. This was the second time in a day he'd been told she wasn't meant to be queen. Fragin didn't seem to share Fitts' belief that she was a good queen. Fitts had blamed the king's wandering eye for his change of marital plans while Fragin clearly believed Anne had set out to lead the king astray. If the man was to be believed, there were others in the kingdom who thought she'd used magic to gain the throne. He remembered the way Anne had tensed when Fragin had started to talk about the empty manor and wanted to kick himself for encouraging the man.

They finally emerged from the woods into another clearing. This one was easily five times the size of the place where they'd stopped. A two-story cottage sat in its center. Smoke was coming from a stone chimney at one end and the Doctor thought he could smell baking bread. There were a half-dozen chickens in the lawn and a ramshackle barn to one side. As they approached a young man emerged from the barn. He was at least a half-foot taller and twenty-years younger than Fragin, but they had the same jaw and eyes. _Must be the son he mentioned_ , thought the Doctor.

"Luke!" Fragin called and the younger man started toward them. "Maggie!" His second shout brought a young woman from the cottage. Her eyes widened at the sight of Anne and the Doctor.

"Who are these people, Papa?" she asked.

"I don't believe I caught your names," Fragin said, looking to the Doctor.

"Smith," he replied. "John Smith."

"And your wife?"

"My wi…" The Doctor started when Anne nudged him. "Oh yes. This is Anne." He smiled sheepishly at the younger Fragins. "We've just been married." Maggie grinned at him but Luke ignored the introductions.

"What happened to them?" he asked, keeping his gaze focused on his father.

"They got lost on their way to Hempsted," Fragin replied. "He's been thrown from his horse and they were robbed. Right now they need something to eat and a place to sleep."

"I'll take care of them, Papa," Maggie said quickly, beaming up at the Doctor. He returned her smile cautiously. He didn't want to be unfriendly but he was supposed to be with his wife. He couldn't be too friendly with the younger woman.

Luke helped Anne down from the horse before moving to assist the Doctor. Once he was on the ground, the queen slipped his good arm over her shoulders and they followed Maggie to the cottage. They came to a stop just inside the door, letting their eyes adjust to the dimness. They were in a large kitchen. A stone fireplace dominated one wall. A large trestle table sat in the center of the room and Maggie waved them toward it. The smell of baking bread was filling the room, mingling with the faint scent of herbs. When the Doctor looked up he could see dried bunches of plants hanging from the ceiling. His stomach rumbled loudly and Anne's joined in.

"You have a seat and I'll get you something to eat," Maggie told them, waving them toward the table as she moved to the fireplace.

Once his eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting, the Doctor spent a few minutes studying the queen. She looked tired and he could see lines of strain in her face, but she didn't look in danger of fainting. She was sitting up tall on the bench, her back perfectly straight. Maggie smiled at them nervously as she moved about the kitchen.

"Do you have family in Hempsted?" she asked.

"No," the Doctor said. Anne nudged him and he quickly added. "Well, Mrs. Smith does. I suppose that means I do too, now that we're married." Anne reached over to cover his hand with hers, giving him a gentle squeeze.

"I have cousins there," she said.

"And your family?" Maggie asked, looking to the Doctor. He tried to remember what Anne had told Fragin but drew a blank. Fortunately she remembered.

"They're in Gaelia."

"Oh! I guess that explains…" the younger woman let her voice trail off, her face flushing as she ducked her head. The Doctor looked at Anne questioningly and she smiled. When Maggie moved to the fireplace, Anne leaned over to murmur in his ear.

"Last year Lady Blackthall scandalized the court by coming back from a trip to Gaelia married to a poet. She's wondering if I've done the same thing."

"Why would she think that?" he asked.

"Poets are known for their… eccentricities," she replied. Her eyes dropped to his neck and he realized she was looking at his tie.

"Bow-ties are cool," he muttered, reaching up to straighten it. Anne caught his hand when Maggie turned from the fireplace, lacing her fingers through his. The younger woman beamed at the sight and the Doctor felt his face grow warm.

"Stew's almost ready," she told them.

"Thank you," Anne replied. "You're being very kind to us."

"You've had a difficult time," Maggie said. "Hasn't been much of a honeymoon, has it?" She turned away to retrieve dishes and the Doctor stared after her. _Newlyweds? How… oh, because I said we'd just been married._ He shook his head, trying not to grimace. Amy and Rory were newlyweds. During the first few weeks after their wedding they'd seemed to spend half their time snogging. _Are they going to expect us…._ He swallowed nervously and looked at Anne. She was staring down at their joined hands, a faint flush on her cheeks.

"Haven't you fed these two yet, Daughter?" The Doctor looked away from Anne as Fragin came into the cottage.

"Stew's almost ready, Papa," Maggie replied. "Are you ready to eat too?"

"Yes," Fragin said, slipping into the bench across from Anne and the Doctor. He grinned at their clasped hands and Anne slowly withdrew hers, settling it in her lap. Maggie put down bowls of thick stew a minute later, giving them both something else to do with their hands.

Fragin kept up a steady stream of chatter as they ate. Fortunately he didn't seem to expect any responses from Anne or the Doctor. Half-way through the meal they were joined by Luke. He took a bowl of his own and sat on the opposite bench, at the far end. He seemed to be focused on his stew but from time to time the Doctor caught him watching them with narrowed eyes. _Are we not acting enough like newlyweds_ , he wondered, _or is it something else?_ He glanced at Anne but she had her head down, tearing the piece of bread Maggie had served her into smaller chunks. The Doctor reached out to claim one and she gave him a small smile before reaching out to tear up his bread for him.

Eventually Fragin's chatter slowed, and the Doctor found himself growing drowsy. The stew and bread was very filling. He'd finished half his bowl and didn't think he could manage more. Anne seemed to be having a similar issue. She put aside a chunk of bread and sighed.

"Thank you," she said, "for the meal. It was wonderful."

"Food always tastes better when you're hungry," Fragin said, chuckling. "You can take 'em upstairs, Maggie. They can have my room."

"Yes, Papa." Maggie set her spoon aside and got to her feet. Anne followed suit, moving to help the Doctor. Maggie led them up the narrow stairs to their room, ducking inside to light a lamp before rejoining them on the landing.

"The bedding's fresh – I just changed it this morning," she told them. "I'll bring you some warm water and rags." She slipped past Anne and back down the stairs. The Doctor watched her go before turning to go into the room. The space was small, with a sloping ceiling. There were only three pieces of furniture in the room: a bed, a bench, and a small table. The bed sat between two narrow windows, with the bench at its foot. The table was just inside the door and held the lamp. Anne stepped in behind him and helped him to the bench, sitting down beside him to wait for Maggie's return.

"How are you feeling?" she asked quietly. "I have more of Dr. Andrews remedy, but I'm not sure taking it would be a good idea."

"You don't think we're safe here?"

"I don't know. These people have been very generous." Anne fell silent as they heard Maggie's steps in the stairs. The younger woman arrived a moment later carrying a large basin and Anne got to her feet. She moved the lamp so Maggie could put her burden on the table.

"There's plenty of water and rags but you let me know if you need more," she told them. "There are a few things here you can borrow." She motioned toward a set of hooks on the wall and the Doctor saw what appeared to be a pair of night-shirts hanging there.

"Thank you," Anne said.

"Rest well," Maggie replied, grinning broadly at them before withdrawing. The Doctor watched the door close, feeling suddenly nervous.


	24. Anne

Anne could feel the Doctor watching her as she waited in the Fragins' kitchen for supper to be ready. She wasn't sure if he was embarrassed by his slip-up outside or troubled by Fragin's accusations. She was having a hard time thinking of anything else. It had been embarrassing to have Fragin say such things in front of the Doctor, and appalling to realize that at least a few of her subjects thought such things about her. How was she supposed to ensure Arthur's succession to the throne if her people did not trust her as regent? She could feel her appetite fading as worry knotted her stomach.

Maggie Fragin moved about the kitchen, beaming at Anne and the Doctor. She was clearly delighted to have a pair of newlyweds under her roof, and the idea of Anne running off to Gaelia to find a poet excited her even more. The Doctor bristled when Anne suggested his bow-tie was eccentric and she bit back a smile, temporarily distracted from her worries over Fragin. She reached out to take his hand, wanting to reinforce their appearance as newlyweds, and he didn't pull away. His grip was light but firm, a decided contrast to Henry's. Her late husband had always gripped too tightly. The Doctor's hands were also smaller, and less calloused than Henry's had been. Anne found herself enjoying the feel of his fingers laced through hers. The thought made her face grow warm.

Fragin joined them as supper was served and Anne braced herself, but he didn't return to the subject of the royal court. He did talk as they ate, moving from topic to topic without ever pausing long enough to allow for any replies. Anne felt herself relaxing gradually and the Doctor seemed to calm as well. She was just starting to enjoy her stew when Fragin's son, Luke, joined them. The younger man took a seat at the end of the bench across from them. He leaned over his bowl without speaking to anyone, apparently uninterested in them. However, when Anne glanced in his direction a few minutes later she found him staring at her. She ducked her head, feeling her face grow warm. When she dared look again, he was still staring. She looked away, reaching out to tear the piece of bread Maggie had served her into bite-sized chunks. When the Doctor reached over to snatch one of the chunks she realized he wasn't able to tear up his own bread so she reached over to do it for him. _That's nice and domestic, isn't it?_ she thought. _Maybe that will settle Luke._

Fragin seemed to run out of things to say eventually and when Anne glanced at the Doctor she could see that he was getting tired. His eyes were droopy and he'd stopped eating. Anne pushed her own bowl away, unable to manage another bite. The stew was thick and very filling. She looked up to find Maggie watching her. She smiled at the younger woman.

"Thank you for the meal," she told the girl. "It was wonderful."

Fragin chuckled, "Food always tastes better when you're hungry. You can take 'em upstairs, Maggie. They can have my room."

"Yes, Papa." Maggie got to her feet, leaving her own stew. Anne rose as well, moving to help the Doctor. The young woman led them up the narrow stairs to a landing. She ducked into a doorway to light a lamp before rejoining them at the top of the stairs.

"The bedding's fresh – I just changed it this morning. I'll bring you some warm water and rags," she said. She didn't wait for a reply before slipping back down the staircase. When she was out of sight, Anne and the Doctor made their way into the small room. The stopped just inside the doorway to study it. The room was small and sparsely furnished. A large bed sat between two windows, with a bench at its foot. There was a table just inside the door which held the lamp Maggie had lit.

After a moment Anne helped the Doctor to the bench, dropping down beside him and stifling a yawn.

"How are you feeling?" she asked. "I have more of Dr. Andrews' remedy, but I'm not sure taking it would be a good idea."

"You don't think we're safe here?" he asked, sounding surprised.

"I don't know," she admitted. "These people have been very generous." Footsteps sounded in the stairs and they fell silent, waiting for Maggie. She came in to the room a minute later, carrying a large basin. Anne got to her feet quickly to move aside the lamp and Maggie set the basin down with a grateful sigh.

"There's plenty of water and rags but you let me know if you need more," she said. "There are a few things here you can borrow." She gestured toward a set of hooks on the wall and Anne turned to see a pair of night-shirts hanging there.

"Thank you," she replied.

"Rest well." Maggie grinned widely before backing out the door, pulling it closed behind her. Anne hardly noticed; she was staring at the steam wafting from the basin and thinking about how nice it would feel to wash a layer of grime off her skin. The sound of a throat clearing reminded her of the Doctor's presence and she turned to find him watching her.

"So… now what?" he asked, his gaze shifting to the basin.

"Now, we wash up as best we can and get some rest," she said, starting to unbutton her jacket. She started to shrug it off and stopped, realizing the Doctor wouldn't be able to get out of his sling on his own. "I… I can help you," she offered.

"I can manage," the Doctor said, shying away from her on the bench. He looked alarmed and she felt her blush deepen, remembering the way Maggie had grinned at them.

"I just want to help. I'm not… what Fragin said today, that's not what happened." She felt her face flame as she remembered his words. _It wouldn't have taken any magic to seduce King Henry._ "I didn't… seduce anybody." The Doctor looked pained.

"You don't…" he began.

"No, let me finish," Anne said. "I… I owe you the truth, after all you've been put through on my account." She moved to the bench, taking a seat on the opposite end from him. "When I first met the king, I was betrothed to another man. He was Henry's best friend – had been since they were children. When Henry's fiancée, Princess Catherine, came to court my fiancé's family arranged for me to be one of her attendants. They hoped she and I might become friends, just as our future husbands were." She sat back in the bench, closing her eyes as she remembering her first impression of the royal court. There had been so many people, all so richly dressed. She'd felt hopelessly out of place in her simple gown, and donning the more elaborate outfit of a royal attendant hadn't diminished the feeling. "Unfortunately, Princess Catherine wasn't interested in making new friends. She'd brought a group of ladies with her from Iberia and she spent most of her time with them in her private chambers. She rarely spoke to the rest of us. We only saw her when she had guests, and then our role was to serve food and drink. That's what I was doing the first time King Henry came to call on her, and I must have caught his eye because he sent me a note that evening. He... he wanted me to visit him in his chamber. I refused, and he sent me another note, and another. I continued to refuse him and he started to turn up wherever I was in the palace. He spoke to me a few times but I reminded him that I was betrothed. It didn't seem to matter. He started sending me gifts – small pieces of jewelry - and his notes became letters. He included poems as well, verses he claimed to have written himself. I kept refusing to come to him but it didn't seem to make any difference. One evening he sent me another gift of jewelry. It wasn't a small thing this time – it was an elaborate pearl necklace, a piece I'd heard discussed in the court. He'd commissioned it as a wedding gift for Catherine. I knew I couldn't keep it, and I didn't want anyone to find out he'd sent it to me. I returned it myself, and he told me he wanted to marry me." She blushed, remembering the way Henry had looked at her that evening. She'd never been courted before, let alone by a king. She'd been betrothed at 12 in an arrangement between her family and her fiancé's. "Henry was handsome, charming, and insistent. I gave in. I said yes, and we eloped that very night. My fiancé was away from court at the time. He didn't find out what we'd done until he returned. We weren't there to face him – Henry insisted on waiting until Catherine and the Iberian delegation departed before taking me back to the palace. By the time we returned, my fiancé had gone. Henry kept hoping he'd forgive us and come back, but he never did." Anne stopped, thinking back to those first days as queen. The court had been scandalized by the elopement. Not only had Henry cruelly cast aside Princess Catherine, he had done so to marry a woman far beneath him. There had been many rumors, most of them putting the blame for what happened on Anne. She'd kept her head up and tried to be a good queen. After Arthur was born, the court seemed to settle, at least until Henry fell ill. His insistence that she be made regent had revived the rumors, and given them fresh fuel. Now that Henry was gone he couldn't quell them. Anne had known the gossip was rampant at court, but it wasn't until Fragin spoke that afternoon that she realized the rumors had spread. _Do all my subjects hold me in contempt?_ she wondered.

After a moment Anne lifted her head, daring to look at the Doctor. Instead of finding him frowning at her in disapproval, she saw that he was slumped on the bench, his head lolled against the arm. His eyes were shut and he appeared to be fast asleep. She stared at him, feeling dismayed until the ludicrousness of the situation struck her. She bit back a laugh and got to her feet.

"Doctor?" she asked softly, touching his good shoulder. "C'mon, sit up. I'm going to get you cleaned up and into bed, alright?" He stirred slightly, shifting on the bench without opening his eyes, and Anne reached for the sling.

A short time later she eased the half-asleep man into the bed, drawing the covers around him. She'd managed to get him out of his sling, jacket and shirt without causing him too much pain, but after she'd finished with the wash-rag she hadn't wanted to try getting him back into them. There were an appalling number of bruises on the man's torso, and a few marks she knew had been left by Geoff's men grabbing him. She tucked the blankets up around his shoulders before returning to the basin.

The Doctor was fast asleep by now but Anne still felt awkward as she stripped down to her chemise and petticoat. The water had cooled considerably but it still felt good to be able to wash. When she was finished she pulled on one of the night-shirts before moving to sit on the unoccupied side of the bed. She unlaced her boots and slipped them off before moving to sit against the headboard. Her eyes were burning and her limbs felt leaden. The Doctor was snoring softly on his side of the bed and she longed to join him. _Maybe just a few minutes_ , she thought, letting herself slide down into the bed.

The next thing Anne knew, someone was shaking her shoulder and calling her name. She started to wave him away, only to remember the events of the previous evening. _We're in Fragin's cottage. I was only going to sleep for a few minutes…_ Sounds were reaching her, of men and horses nearby. She opened her eyes to find the Doctor staring down at her.

"I think someone's found us," he murmured, nodding toward the window. Anne got up quickly, going to peek outside. The sun was just rising and a mist hung over the ground. She could see a cluster of men and horses below the window. She could see the black and gray uniform of her royal guards, but were these her men or Geoff's?


	25. Amy

Amy watched as Rory worked on the injured Fitts. She glanced over her shoulder at the waiting men and felt a flare of pride. She knew it wasn't easy for Rory to stand up to a forceful person like Grist, never mind the group of armed men with him, but he'd done it. He'd insisted on treating Fitts rather than interrogating him and Grist had backed down. The thought filled her with a sense of wonder. _That's_ _my_ _husband_ , she thought, beaming at Rory. He must have sensed her gaze because he looked up at her. He gave her a hesitant smile in return before turning back to his patient.

By the time the last of the cuts were healed, Grist and his men had moved away. Amy was torn between wanting to stay with Rory and wanting to see what the others were up to. Rory told her they needed to get the injured man moved to someplace warm and she offered to go get Grist. He nodded and she hurried away, finding the group of men standing outside the entrance to a cave. Grist turned as she approached.

"Well?" he demanded. "Is he still alive?"

"Yes," she answered, bristling a bit. A man who's idea of sophisticate medical care probably involved leeches didn't need to question her husband's skill. "Rory says we need to keep him warm and let him rest."

"We can move him into the cave," Landon said, moving to his horse. He dug into a saddle-bag, drawing out a blanket.

"Very well," Grist replied, nodding. They started toward Rory, still talking.

"Did you find any more signs of the queen?" Amy asked.

"We found the remains of a fire in the cave," Landon said. "They obviously camped here last night." They moved around the shrubs and Landon carried the blanket to Rory, who started to put it around Fitts. Grist moved up to crouch down beside him.

"He's unconscious," he said.

"He lost a lot of blood," Rory answered

"Will he live?"

"I don't know. He has a chance of surviving now."

"But we have no chance to ask him any more questions."

"Not until he wakes up."

"If he wakes up." Grist got to his feet and moved away, shaking his head. Amy glared after him.

Robbard came around the shrubs a few minutes later. He and Landon helped Rory move Fitts into the cave, settling him near the back. Rory sat down beside his patient to monitor him while Grist and the men moved outside to talk. Amy followed them. Grist barely glanced at her. He was issuing orders to the men, sending them off in pairs. They were instructed to look for any signs of the advance riders. Amy wanted to protest – surely it would be better to look for traces of the queen or Geoff - but the men were already moving, collecting their horses. Grist shot a glare at her before stalking into the cave. She followed, moving past him to sit down beside Rory.

Amy waited quietly with Rory for some time. Grist was pacing and she watched him, feeling her irritation growing with each lap. From time to time he shot a baleful glance at Rory. Amy could feel her hands clenching into fists each time he did. She understood the man's impatience – she was impatient too – but if he gave Rory one more dirty look she was going to smack him. She turned away from him to watch Fitts' steady breathing.

When Amy looked back at him a few minutes later, she found Grist staring at her, his expression sour. She sighed and got to her feet, striding toward him. For a minute he looked like he would retreat but in the end he stayed where he was, waiting for her.

"Quit sulking already," she told him. "Rory did the right thing and you know it."

"Right for whom?" he asked. "I doubt Fitts will thank him. All he has to look forward to is a traitor's death."

"He helped the queen escape," Amy protested. "Surely she'd spare him."

"Maybe she would." Grist's disapproval was obvious.

"You don't think she should?" she asked.

"The fact that Fitts eventually betrayed his traitorous cohorts doesn't detract from the fact that first he betrayed his queen."

"He realized his mistake and tried to correct it. Doesn't that count for something?"

"There are some transgressions that simply can't be forgiven." Grist folded his arms across his chest, frowning down at her, and Amy felt her temper flare. He was so pompous and condescending.

"Is that why you haven't seen the queen for six years, three months, and seven days?" she asked. "Did she commit an unforgiveable transgression?"

"Yes." Grist's glower deepened and Amy glared back, not backing down. Someone cleared his throat nearby and Grist slowly turned to look. Once he'd shifted his gaze, Amy followed suit. Landon was standing nearby, looking apprehensive.

"Sir, we've found no further signs of our advance riders," he said. "Do you want us to continue searching for them?" Grist started to nod and Amy objected.

"Can't we find the queen's trail ourselves?" she asked.

"We are looking, Mistress Pond," Landon replied, "but the ground around here is very rocky."

"There are many directions Anne might have taken," Grist said, sounding exasperated. "We could be casting about for hours and still not find a sign. That's why I wanted to question Fitts. At least he may have seen which way they headed. At best, he might now what Anne's plan was."

"So what's your plan? We wait around and hope he wakes up sooner rather than later?"

"Of course not. We're searching for any signs of which way Anne went. Presumably Geoff and his party started out after her," Grist replied.

"I doubt Mr. Fitts just stood by and let them attack him," Landon added. "At least one of the party may be injured."

"Go – see if you can find any trace of them. They're a large group – it would be harder for them to leave no trace than for one woman and one man."

"Yes Sir." Landon nodded and moved back out of the cave, leaving Amy alone with Grist.

"What do we do?" she asked.

"We wait, and we hope that your husband's efforts weren't in vain." Grist turned away, stalking away from her. Amy frowned after him for a moment before crossing the cave to crouch down beside Rory.

"What's happening?" Rory asked.

"They can't find any traces of the advance riders," Amy told him. "They're going to try to pick up Geoff's trail."

"Geoff's? Not the queen's?"

"They assume they'll be similar, and since Geoff's with a large party they're more likely to leave traces." Amy shifted her gaze to Fitts. In the dim light in the cave it was hard to see if the man's color had improved but his breathing was steady. "How's he doing?"

"His vitals are stable," Rory replied, looking back to the little monitor. "They've improved a little. I think he'll make it."

"Good."

"Grist is still mad that I didn't let him question him first isn't he?"

"He's hoping that Fitts knows what the queen's plan is."

"That assumes she had one," Rory answered. When Amy arched her brows at him he smiled. "She's with the Doctor after all. He's not exactly the best at planning."

"Just because we can't always follow his plans…" Amy began. Rory snorted and she fought back a chuckle of her own. "Alright. Fine. He mostly makes things up as he goes."

"Seems that way." They fell silent for a moment. Amy felt her amusement fading as she remembered the way the Doctor had looked the last time she saw him. He'd been so pale, and so still. She shuddered and Rory slipped an arm around her, drawing her close. She let her head rest on his shoulder.

"I just hope he's able to make something up right now," she said softly. Rory kissed the top of her head and tightened his hold.

Amy wasn't sure how long they sat together before one of Grist's men returned to the cave. He glanced in their direction before making his way straight to his leader. Amy shifted, lifting her head from Rory's shoulder as she watched them. It was impossible to read their expressions in the dimness of the cave and she got to her feet. The man was just finishing his report when she reached them. He glanced at her again before turning to leave. Amy looked to Grist.

"What's happening?" she asked.

"Two of my men have returned," he replied. "There was no sign of my advance riders, or Anne or Geoff moving toward Stoketon."

"So they've eliminated one possibility."

"Yes. One possibility out of dozens has been eliminated." Grist started to pace again and Amy turned to watch him.

"So, now what?" she asked. "Are you sending them…"

"They're staying here. It will be dark soon and I will not risk losing more men."

"More…" she began. He cut her off.

"There's still no sign of my advance riders. I can only assume some evil befell them."

"Why wouldn't you have found some sign of them if something had happened to them? We found Fitts."

"I don't know," Grist snarled, "but I can't imagine any other reason for them to no longer be leaving us markers to follow." His pacing increased in speed.

"What are you going to do now?" Amy could feel her heart start to pound.

"This was a fool's errand. We should abandon it now, before anyone else is hurt."

"Abandon… But you can't! She's your queen." She stopped as Grist whirled to glare at her. Her heart was racing now but she didn't turn away from his glower.

"I owe her _nothing_ ," he spat. Amy took a shaky breath.

"I don't know what she did to make you hate her," she said, struggling to keep her voice steady, "but if you abandon this you're not just hurting her. My friend's out there…"

"Your friend is not my concern."

"What about the prince?" asked Amy. "Or does your hatred for his mother extend to him?"

"I don't hate her," Grist retorted. He took a few more steps and stopped, sighing. "A child should never be punished for the crimes of his parents." He moved away, stepping out of the cave and calling out to his men. Amy watched him go, feeling her thudding heart start to slow. When she turned toward Rory, he was watching her anxiously. She moved across the cave to rejoin him.

"What did the queen do to him?" she muttered, dropping down to sit beside her husband.

"He was in love with her," Rory replied. Amy stared at him and he shrugged. "No one can hurt you quite so badly as a person you love." He turned his attention back to Fitts and she stared at him. They'd never talked about it but she knew she'd hurt Rory many times, even before she ran off with the Doctor on the night before their wedding. He'd forgiven her every single time. She remembered Grist's harsh words about unforgivable transgressions and shuddered. Was there something she could have done that Rory wouldn't have been able to forgive? She didn't think so. It just wasn't in him to hold grudges. Grist would probably consider him weak, but she disagreed. Rory was brave. He kept forgiving her, kept letting her back in and giving her a chance to hurt him all over again. She looked over toward the cave opening, feeling a wave of pity for Grist. He was afraid. He didn't want to be hurt again, so he kept himself far away from court and the queen. He put on a show of contempt to hide how badly she'd wounded him. _And it wasn't just her, was it?_ she thought on a flash of inspiration. _You said no child should be punished for the crimes of his_ _parents_ _. It's not what she did to you – it's what did_ _they_ _do to you._


	26. Rory

Rory hadn't been thrilled by the idea of moving Fitts into the cave. Caves were, in his experience, chilly and damp. The men had insisted this one was dry and they could also build a fire in it, just as Geoff and his men had the night before. Rory had reluctantly consented and two of the men had picked up Fitts to carry him the short distance. They settled him near the back of the cave and Rory took a seat beside him, checking his vitals on the monitor again. They continued to hold steady, much to his relief. He leaned forward to adjust the blanket that was wrapped around Fitts, moving it up around his shoulders more securely.

Amy came to sit with him a few minutes later. Grist was in the front portion of the cave, where the ceiling was higher. He was pacing, frowning over at Rory, Amy and Fitts every few minutes. Rory was getting irritated by the dirty looks. Grist couldn't know that Fitts had information about the queen's whereabouts and it was ridiculous to risk the man's life on the off-chance he did. His irritation, however, was nothing compared to Amy's. Each time Grist looked in their direction, her tension increased. Rory could see her clenching and unclenching her fists. He wanted to say something to her but the next time Grist looked their way, Amy got to her feet and stalked toward him.

Rory watched anxiously as Grist and Amy talked. As satisfying as watching her take the arrogant man down a peg would be, they still needed Grist's help if they were going to find the Doctor. He only caught a word or two as they spoke but Grist's body language betrayed his discomfort. Amy pressed on until Landon returned to the cave and interrupted them. He seemed to be reporting. Rory didn't envy him; he was being questioned by both Grist and Amy.

After a few minutes Landon left the cave and Amy turned back to Grist. This time Rory could clearly hear her.

"What do we do?" she asked.

"We wait, and we hope that your husband's efforts weren't in vain," Grist replied, turning away from her. Rory was relieved when she didn't follow him. After glaring after him for a moment, she turned and came back to sit beside Rory and Fitts.

"What's happening?" he asked.

"They can't find any traces of the advance riders. They're going to try to pick up Geoff's trail."

"Geoff's? Not the queen's?"

"They assume they'll be similar, and since Geoff's with a large party they're more likely to leave traces," she answered. She looked over at Fitts, her brow creased with worry. "How's he doing?"

"His vitals are stable. They've improved a little. I think he'll make it."

"Good." Amy nodded, her brow clearing.

"Grist is still mad that I didn't let him question him first isn't he?" Rory asked.

"He's hoping that Fitts knows what the queen's plan is."

"That assumes she had one." Amy arched her brows at him and he smiled. "She's with the Doctor after all. He's not exactly the best at planning."

"Just because we can't always follow his plans…" she began. Rory couldn't hold back a skeptical snort and she chuckled. "Alright. Fine. He mostly makes things up as he goes," she admitted.

"Seems that way," Rory agreed. They were both quiet for a moment, lost in their own thoughts. The Doctor had been in such pain the last time he saw him; Rory didn't think he'd be up to inventing any plans just now. The queen would have to take the lead there, and hopefully the Doctor would be able to follow along. Amy shuddered and Rory quickly put his arm around her. He drew her close and after a second she let her head drop to his shoulder.

"I just hope he's able to make something up right now," she said quietly. Rory leaned over to kiss the top of her head even as he pulled her up tighter against him.

They sat for some time without talking. Rory kept his arm around Amy and she left her head on his shoulder. From time to time he checked Fitts' monitor. The injured man remained stable and Rory felt his worry increasing. What if Fitts didn't wake up? What if he did, but he knew nothing about where the queen and the Doctor had gone? And what was Rory going to do about Fitts when the time did come to move out?

Amy lifted her head from his shoulder and Rory looked toward the cave's entrance to see one of Grist's men returning. Amy slipped out from under his arm, making her way toward them. Both men looked over as she approached. The man nodded to Grist before departing, leaving him to face Amy alone. Once again their conversation was too quiet for Rory to hear much, but their body language showed they were arguing once more. Grist was pacing as he talked and Amy had her arms crossed over her chest. Gradually their voices rose, echoing slightly in the cave. Rory winced, both at the volume and the subject matter.

"Abandon… But you can't!" Amy protested, her voice at a half-shout. "She's your queen." Grist whirled to face her and though Rory could only see his back, he could imagine his glower.

"I owe her _nothing_ ," he retorted.

"I don't know what she did to make you hate her, but if you abandon this you're not just hurting her," Amy fired back. "My friend's out there…"

"Your friend is not my concern."

"What about the prince? Or does your hatred for his mother extend to him?"

"I don't hate her." Grist answered, his voice dropping a little in volume. He sounded tired now. He started to pace again but came to a stop after just a couple of steps. He said something more, but his voice was so quiet now that Rory couldn't hear him. He turned away from Amy and moved out of the cave. Rory could hear him calling out to his men. Amy stared after him for a minute before she turned toward Rory. She looked anxious as she stepped across the cave to rejoin him.

"What did the queen do to him?" she muttered as she took a seat on the cave floor beside Rory.

"He was in love with her," Rory said. When Amy stared in surprise he gave an embarrassed shrug. "No one can hurt you quite so badly as a person you love." Amy's eyes widened and Rory looked away, feeling his face warm. He studied Fitts' monitor again, willing the man to wake up. When he turned back Amy was still staring at him but he didn't think she was seeing him anymore. She was lost in her thoughts.

"It wasn't just the queen," she murmured finally, refocusing on Rory. "The king did something too."

"What?"

"He said… he said a child should never be punished for the crimes of his parents. Not his mother – his parents." Amy stared at him and after a moment Rory nodded.

"Oh…kay," he said. "That's interesting, but how does it help us exactly?"

"I dunno. Maybe if he threatens to abandon the search again we can remind him of what he said," Amy replied. "Or maybe… maybe we can remind him that it wasn't just the queen who hurt him." She shrugged and Rory nodded.

"Ok. That's a good idea." He looked past her to see two of Grist's men entering the cave with arms full of branches. "I guess they're setting up camp for the night." Amy looked over her shoulder for a second.

"Yeah. Grist said it was going to be dark soon so he was calling off any more searching."

"We really need to know what Fitts can tell us," Rory said, turning back to study his patient. Amy put her hand on his arm.

"Hey," she chided. "You did the right thing, Rory. You couldn't let them risk his life just to ask him questions."

"I know." He looked back at the unconscious man and Amy rubbed his arm.

"He might not have any answers for them anyway."

"What if he doesn't? Then what do we do?"

"We keep searching. We know the queen didn't try to return to the camp, and we know she didn't go toward Stoketon. That's two possibilities eliminated."

"How many to go?" Rory asked, turning back toward Amy.

"Hey – they'll find a trace," she said, leaning forward to hug him. "I know they will." She kissed his cheek before letting him go and getting to her feet. "I'm going to go get some air. Ok?"

"Ok." He nodded and she turned to go. He watched her cross the cave before turning to the medical kit.

Rory looked through the medical kit, checking the labels on all the devices. He knew he needed to heal the Doctor's collarbone and ankle but he wanted to know what equipment he had. Grist's description of Geoff as a sadistic bastard was troubling; what other injuries might the Doctor suffer at his hands? Rory was determined to be ready for anything. He found tools for mending broken bones, healing burns and mending cuts. He found that, in addition to putting labels on everything, the Doctor had also added a tray of medicines. There was an assortment of things that looked like syringes, only without needles. They were in a rainbow of colors. There wasn't a tag on each one but Rory did find a card with a list. Blue was for pain relief, red was a stimulant, green was to treat infections, purple was a sedative, and so on. There was as small bottle of yellow pills as well; their label said they were for re-growing limbs. Rory stared at the bottle in shock. _Just what does the Doctor think we're going to get up to on these adventures?_ he wondered.

He turned from the kit to watch the men working near the cave's entrance. It wasn't long before they had a small fire going. The smoke mostly moved out of the cave but Rory felt his eyes water anyway. He wiped his gritty eyes and watched as the men added more wood to the fire. He longed to join Amy in the fresh air outside, but he didn't want to leave Fitts alone. _What am I supposed to do in the morning?_ he wondered. _We can't take the man with us, and he can't be left here alone._ Rory looked over at the men working on the fire, wondering if any of them had any medical training.

By the time Amy came back the number of men at the fire had doubled. They'd started to bring in food and Rory felt his stomach rumbling. Amy arched her brows at him as she dropped back down beside him.

"Was that your stomach?" she asked, smirking.

"Yes," he answered, feeling his face warm. The light outside the cave was turning more orange as the sun set. "Are all of the men back yet?"

"There's one more pair still out – Landon and Robbard. Grist's worried."

"I was thinking about tomorrow," Rory told her. "I don't think taking Fitts with us is a good idea, but he can't stay here alone."

"You can't stay behind," Amy protested, reaching out to grab his hand. "The… the Doctor's hurt. He needs you."

"I know. Some of the men will have to stay."

"Maybe we can leave Ortel and Mortan."

"Is Mortan still staring…"

"No," she said quickly, smirking again. "I think Ortel said something to him. Now he blushes bright red and runs the other way when he sees me." They chuckled softly, smiling at each other. A few minutes later a low moaning sound came from behind Rory and Amy nudged him. "Your stomach…"

"Ssh," Rory chided, turning back to Fitts. The man moaned again and Rory pulled his hand away from Amy, reaching for the monitor. "He's waking up!"

"I'll tell Grist," Amy said, touching his shoulder once before hurrying away. Rory kept his eyes on his patient, willing the man to open his eyes.


	27. The Doctor

The sound of a rooster crowing woke the Doctor. He went from fast asleep to wide awake in seconds, and for the first time in days his instinctive awareness of time was back. It was half-an-hour past dawn, or this place's equivalent of 4:30 am. Pale light was coming in the windows, bright enough to let him see clearly but not so bright that it hurt his eyes. He lay still in the bed for a few minutes, staring up at the ceiling as he assessed how he felt. The ache in his head was very faint now. His shoulder and ankle were still sore but they weren't throbbing. _Steadily improving_ , he thought.

He shifted in the bed and his hand brushed up against something… someone. He started, realizing he was not alone, and turned his head. Anne was beside him in the bed, lying on her stomach with her face turned toward his. She had one arm tucked up under her pillow and he could see she'd donned one of the night-shirts Maggie had offered them. Her face was relaxed in sleep and for a moment he could imagine her as a shy young woman, overwhelmed by the grandeur of a royal court. He knew she'd tried to tell him her story the night before but he wasn't sure how much he'd heard before he fell asleep. His face warmed at the thought; she'd been trying to tell him something important and he'd nodded off. The last thing he remembered her saying was that she had eloped with the king, leaving behind his fiancée and hers.

He shifted again and realized he was shirtless – no sling, no jacket, no shirt, no bow-tie. He felt a moment's alarm until he spied his tie draped over the arm of the bench at the foot of the bed. Apparently Anne's story wasn't all he'd missed. He remembered Maggie bringing up a basin of water and some washrags. Anne must have helped him clean up before putting him to bed. He felt his face grow warm at the thought. _Probably just as well I was out for that bit_ , he thought. _I'm lucky she didn't dump the basin over my head after I fell asleep on her._ He slipped out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake Anne. She'd spent one sleepless night watching over him; the least he could do was allow her a few more minutes of rest.

He found his jacket and shirt neatly folded on one end of the bench, his tie and sling hanging over the arm; Anne's jacket and skirt were on the other end, along with what appeared to be a corset. He retrieved his shirt and discovered that his bad arm was not only sore but stiff and difficult to move. He managed to get into the shirt but gave up trying to work the buttons. He'd just reached for his jacket when he heard the sound of approaching hoof-beats. He was surprised at how well the sound carried up to the second floor; he half expected to look out the window to find the horse staring back in. Instead, when he peered out he saw a cluster of men riding up to the cottage. There were three men in the black and grey of the royal guards. Two more wore dark cloaks. One had his hood up, obscuring any glimpse of his face. The other had left his hood down, revealing a head of pure white hair. The sixth man wore neither cloak nor uniform; the Doctor thought he recognized Luke's dirty-blonde mane. He felt his hearts start to pound and turned to the bed to wake Anne.

It took a moment for her to come awake. He said her name but she barely stirred. He reached out to shake her shoulder gently and she finally opened her eyes, frowning up at him.

"I think someone's found us," he told her, nodding toward the window. Anne sat up immediately, her eyes going from sleepy to alarmed in an instant. She knelt in front of the window, peering out.

"I can't see their faces," she murmured. "If…" She stopped as the door to their room swung open. Maggie stood in the doorway, her face flushed. She'd obviously dressed in haste; one side of her skirt was caught on her petticoat and her pale hair was scraped into a braid rather than neatly coiled as it had been the day before.

"You've got to get out of here," she told them, stepping in to the room and shutting the door behind her. "Hurry and get dressed!" Anne moved from the window to the bench and started tugging off the night-shirt. Her petticoats were peeping out beneath it and the Doctor realized she'd pulled it on over her underclothes. He turned away, struggling to button his shirt with only one hand. Maggie stepped forward to take over.

"What's happening?" Anne asked, continuing to work her way back into her clothing. When the Doctor looked over she was hooking up some sort of corset. He looked away again as Maggie straightened his collar.

"Luke's brought a group of men here, looking for you two," Maggie answered. "He went to the manor last night, not long after you went to bed. He does that sometimes, to visit with some of the staff there. He met these men and they said they were looking for the queen and a strange man." She turned to grab the Doctor's jacket from the bench and he spotted a red, hand-shaped mark on her cheek.

"Someone's hit you," he said, wincing.

"It's nothing," she said quickly. "Luke didn't like me disagreeing with him in front of the others. C'mon, hurry now. Papa's out there arguing with them but he won't be able to keep them out of the house for long." As if to confirm her statement, the sound of shouting came from outside. "C'mon – we'll have to do your sling and tie later." Maggie tugged on the Doctor's good arm, pulling him toward the door. He glanced over at Anne, relieved to find she was fully dressed save her jacket. She draped it over her arm before stepping up to help him. They followed Maggie out onto the landing and down the stairs.

"Where are we going?" Anne asked, keeping her voice quiet.

"The cellar. There's a tunnel that runs from the house to the barn," Maggie replied, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Hopefully it will take them a few minutes to realize what we've done and we can get the two of you away." She motioned for them to stop and went on down the last few steps into the kitchen alone. They waited until she waved them forward before joining her. She led them across the kitchen toward the fireplace, moving quickly. The sounds of shouting were louder now. The Doctor could make out Fragin's voice, mingling with another man's. He thought it sounded like Luke.

The shouting intensified as they crossed the kitchen. Maggie pulled back the hearth-rug to reveal a trap-door. She opened it, lowering it carefully so it wouldn't bang on the floor before getting a lantern from the mantel. The shouting sounds were subsiding and men's voices were coming closer.

"Hurry," Anne hissed, half-shoving the Doctor forward. "They're coming." He started down the ladder, struggling to keep his balance with only one good arm and ankle. He didn't succeed and wound up half-falling down the last steps, sitting down hard on the cellar floor. He looked up, catching Anne's eyes for a moment. She gave him a grim smile before turning to Maggie and saying something. Her voice was too quiet for him to make out her words but he felt his stomach twist with anxiety. What was she up to? He got to his feet just as Maggie started down the ladder. She passed him the glowing lantern. He'd just taken it when the trap-door shut with a soft thunk.

"What? No! No, no, no!" He wanted to go back up the ladder but Maggie was on her way down, forcing him to move back. She dropped to the floor and turned to face him, holding up her hands.

"They were coming in – there was no way for her to make it through the trap-door unseen. She told me to get you out of here," she said, reaching out to grip his good shoulder. "C'mon – we've got to go."

"We can't just leave her!"

"We're not just leaving her. We're getting help," Maggie replied. "Look, there are six of them and only two of us. There's nothing else we can do."

"There has to be something!"

"I'm sorry, Doctor. There isn't." He glared at her and she sighed. "Look, Her Majesty told me to get you out of here and go for help and that's exactly what I'm going to do. Now come on. We have to hurry. It won't take Luke long to realize where we've gone." She caught his good arm and drew it over her shoulders, starting them away from the ladder. The Doctor wanted to dig in his heels and protest, but he couldn't think of an alternative. He could barely walk let alone fight; he didn't even have his sonic screwdriver.

Maggie rushed him across the cellar. He caught brief glimpses of jar-laden shelves and bins as the lantern light played over them. At the far end of the cellar was the start of a tunnel. Maggie had to let go of him there as the opening was too narrow for them to pass through together. She sent him first, taking the lantern so he could use his good arm to brace himself against the wall. He had to duck to go into the tunnel, and remain stooped over as he moved through it. Maggie was right behind him, urging him to go faster. He tried to ignore the way the earthen walls seemed to be closing in on him and concentrated on keeping his footing as he hurried. His chest was tight by the time they reached the tunnel's end, emerging in a small room with a ladder leading up to a trap-door.

"I'll go first," Maggie whispered, setting the lantern down on the ground. She didn't wait for him to answer before grabbing on to the ladder and starting up. The Doctor waited until she was most of the way up before moving after her. She opened the door slowly, craning her neck to see around it before looking down at him. "We're good," she said, swinging the trap-door the rest of the way open and climbing out. She lay across the floor, reaching down to help the Doctor up the last few rungs. He wound up sprawled across the barn floor for a moment, struggling to catch his breath, before Maggie hauled him to his feet. He had a brief impression of the barn – stalls on one side, open space with assorted tools on the other, and a hay-loft up above – as they moved toward a stall containing the horse he and Anne had rode the day before. He could hear men shouting outside. Their voices seemed to be coming closer to the barn and he tried to quicken his steps.

"No time for a saddle," Maggie muttered as they reached the horse. She flipped over a nearby bucket and used it for a step, easily landing on the animal's back. The Doctor followed suit but with only one foot to push off with he was far less graceful than she'd been. Maggie hauled him up behind her even as she turned the animal toward the open barn door. The shouting was growing closer. "Hang on," she ordered. The next second she'd kicked the horse into a gallop and they were charging toward the open door. The Doctor yelped as he swayed. They made it through the door and past three of the men. Maggie pointed them toward the cottage on a route toward the woods. He could see Anne and Fragin standing together, with three other men. He caught a glimpse of a white-haired man with wide eyes and then they were moving past. Something hit him and he lost his grip, tumbling from the horse. He hit the ground hard and his vision turned to static. A second later something – someone large and heavy – landed on top of him, knocking all the air from his lungs.


	28. Anne

Anne had felt dread settle like a stone in the pit of her stomach the second she caught sight of the men outside the cottage. The feeling intensified when she spotted a familiar head of white hair. _Father's here._ She'd been about to tell the Doctor when Maggie burst into the room, urging them to dress in a hurry. The younger woman had seemed to have a plan for getting them away from the cottage and Anne had tried to hold on to hope as she hastily dressed.

They'd just reached the trapdoor in the kitchen when the shouting of the men outside abated. Anne felt a cold certainty come over her; they all weren't going to make it into the cellar before the men came in. She looked at the Doctor, taking in his limp and the way one arm was stiff at his side. _He's been through enough_ , she thought. _I will_ _not_ _let Father use him as leverage. No matter what else happens, he has to get away._ She gave him a gentle push toward the trap-door.

"Hurry. They're coming," she whispered. Maggie retrieved a lantern from the mantle as the Doctor started down the ladder. He fell the last few feet, sitting down hard on the floor. Anne gave him a grim smile before turning to Maggie. The younger woman started to speak but Anne cut her off.

"Listen," she hissed. "You've got to get him out of here. My people are camped in a crater a day and a half's ride from here. Go to them – they'll take care of you." Maggie stared at her in surprise for a second before nodding and turning to the ladder. As soon as she was far enough down the rungs for her head to be out of the way, Anne closed the trap door. She could hear a muffled shout from the Doctor and quickly kicked the rug back into place over the door before starting toward the cottage door. She'd only gone a few steps when two of her traitorous royal guards came in.

"Mr. Trock, Mr. Dawson," she said, lifting her chin defiantly. "I'd hoped I was rid of you." Trock shook his head, stepping across the room to catch her arm and pull her toward the door. She tried not to wince as he squeezed her bruised arm. They moved outside and she caught a brief glimpse of several men standing in a half-circle before she stumbled. She would have fallen if not for Trock's vice-like grip.

"Gently now, Trock," chided a soft voice. Anne looked up to see her father approaching from amongst the group. He beamed at her. She supposed to anyone watching he appeared happy to see her, but she could see a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. Trock released her arm and her father reached out to catch her shoulders, leaning in to kiss her cheek. She pulled away before his lips could connect and he sighed. "Annie…"

"Did you really think I'd greet you with hugs and smiles when you've had me abducted?" she demanded. For just a second she saw anger flash over his face, but he quickly replaced it with a hurt frown.

"My dear daughter, how can you say such things?" he asked.

"How can you do such things?" she countered, looking past him to the other men. Luke and Montague were watching the scene between Anne and her father attentively. Fragin stood a little to one side of the group, a confused frown on his face, and Geoff looked bored.

"Where's her little pet?" he demanded. Anne fought back a smirk as her father sighed. He undoubtedly had his entire performance planned out; her brother had just gone off-script, ruining his plans.

"He wasn't there," Trock answered.

"Well go and look for him," Geoff said, sounding petulant. "He can't have gone far." Anne could hear Trock and Dawson grumbling as they went back into the cottage. She could hear them moving about and the sound of something glass breaking.

"Hey!" Fragin protested, taking a step forward. Luke caught his arm.

"Don't interfere, Father," he said.

"They're breaking our things!"

"It doesn't matter," Luke insisted. "Just keep still."

"I hope you're paying them enough to make up for the damage your thugs are doing," Anne said, glaring at her father. He smiled at her.

"He's not in the cottage," announced Dawson, stepping back outside with Trock on his heels. "We found a bed upstairs. Two people slept in it."

"She told us the man was her husband," piped up Luke.

"He's gone," Anne said, concentrating on not even glancing at the barn. _Come on, Maggie_ , she thought. _Get the Doctor out of there_ _now_ _!_ "He left."

"He was in no condition to travel on his own," protested Fragin. "He could barely walk without help and his arm…"

"He left," Anne repeated, cutting the older man off. She stared at him, willing him to at least shut up if he couldn't go along with her. He stared back at her, clearly puzzled, but he stayed quiet. Luke was also frowning at her and Anne felt her heart sink when his face cleared.

"He's in the barn," he said.

"How?" demanded Montague even as he started toward the structure. Luke stayed where he was, calling after him.

"There's a tunnel from the cellar of the house to the barn. My stupid sister must have taken him through it." Trock and Dawson joined Montague. They'd nearly reached the open door of the barn when a horse burst out of it, two riders clinging to its back. The men tumbled to the ground in their efforts to avoid being trampled. A second later she and her father were taking a step back as the horse charged straight toward them. Geoff and Fragin stepped aside as well but Luke remained where he was. He leapt at the riders as the horse moved past, and Anne gasped as he brought down the Doctor. The injured man hit the ground hard and Luke landed on top of him. Anne stared for a second before stepping forward. Her father caught her arm, stopping her.

"Well done, young man," he said as Luke levered himself up. Anne barely registered the young man's pleased smile; she was staring at the Doctor, who was still on the ground. Fragin crouched down beside him, reaching out to turn his head.

"He's alive," he reported, glancing up at Anne. "Just had the wind knocked out of him."

"Get him up," ordered her father. "It's time we were on our way." When no one moved he snapped. "Now, Geoff."

"Yes, Sir," muttered Geoff. He stepped up to the Doctor and reached down to grab his arm. Fragin caught his hand, stopping him.

"Have a care," he protested. "That's his injured arm."

"So?" Geoff started to grab for the Doctor again and Fragin pushed him away.

"Father, don't interfere," snapped Luke. He grabbed his father's shoulders and pulled the man away from the Doctor. Geoff moved forward again but this time he caught the Doctor's uninjured arm, hauling the man up into a sitting position. The Doctor's eyes were closed and his head lolled to one side as he was moved.

"Get him into the wagon," her father ordered as Trock limped up to help her brother. They hauled the Doctor up and started toward the horses. Just beyond the saddled animals sat a small enclosed wagon. It was essentially a small box on wheels, painted in grey and trimmed with black. Two horses were hitched to it, looking weary. "I borrowed that from the Duke's estate," he father murmured gleefully, leaning close to her. "It's a relic – almost fifty years old. You remember Queen Sophia? She was found guilty of adultery and this is the wagon which carried her from the Tower to the site of her execution." Anne suppressed a shudder.

"Lucky for you the Duke kept it," she retorted. Her father laughed.

"I'm told the Duke used to show it to his wife," he replied, "as a warning of what might happen should she stray." He waved Montague and Dawson forward. "Put my daughter into the wagon with her… friend." He gave Anne a little shove forward and the two guards reached out to catch her arms. Fragin was on his feet now, standing beside Luke and looking guilty.

"What have you done, Son?" he asked. Luke snorted contemptuously, ignoring the question. The guards propelled Anne toward the wagon. They stopped there, looking back to watch as Luke approached her father. He was saying something about wanting his reward. Both men were in profile, but she had a clear view of her father's face. He was smiling, with a hard glint to his eyes. Anne felt her heart hammering; she knew that face. He had no intention of dealing fairly with Luke. He was holding out a purse toward the younger man and she felt sick as she realized what he was about to do. She opened her mouth to call out a warning but it was too late. He tossed the purse into the air and when Luke stretched out to catch it, he lunged. With a flick of his wrist he slipped the dagger he kept hidden in his sleeve into his hand. He jabbed the blade up into the younger man's chest and she heard Luke's gasp of surprise.

"There's your reward, my boy," he said, snatching the purse from the young man's hand as he fell.

"No!" Fragin shouted a protest, lunging forward. Geoff stepped into his path, hitting the old man hard and knocking him to the ground. He drew his foot back to kick him.

"Stop it!" Anne cried, pulling away from the guards and starting toward her brother.

"Get her into the wagon!" shouted her father. The men caught her arms, all but throwing her into the wagon before slamming the door shut. She got to her knees, pounding on the door with her fists. All she accomplished was making her hands throb. After a moment she sank back, fighting back sobs. Not only had she failed to escape or remove the Doctor from danger, but one bystander had been killed and another was being brutally beaten. _All I've done is postpone this confrontation with my father and get people killed._

The wagon jerked forward a few minutes later and Anne nearly fell over. She caught herself on the wall and shifted so she was sitting against it. The Doctor groaned as they bounced along. As her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting in the wagon she could see that he was sprawled on the floor, his bad arm pinned beneath his body. She realized his sling was with Maggie, as well as his bow-tie. She reached out to shift him carefully, turning him onto his back and settling his head in her lap. He moaned a couple of times but his eyes stayed shut. Anne smoothed his hair back from his forehead, wincing when she spotted a second knot near his temple. He was quiet now, his breathing slow and even. She blinked back a fresh wave of tears. With her father here she knew there'd be no further chances of escape, even if the Doctor was in any condition to make an attempt. Their only hope now was rescue and it seemed a slim hope. Even if Maggie managed to reach her people, how would they know where to look? _No_ , she thought. _I'm not going to sit here waiting for a rescue. That's not good enough._ She stared down at the Doctor, smoothing his hair back again. _Escape's out, rescue's out. There has to be something_ _I_ _can do, some way to keep my father from hurting you other than giving in. I have to figure it out, and fast._


	29. Amy

The first person Amy saw when she stepped out of the cave was Mortan. She suppressed a shudder but to her surprise, instead of staring at her, he turned and hurried away. She watched him flee, feeling a mixture of relief and confusion. She was pleased not to be stared at but she had to wonder why he was running from her. After a moment she chuckled and shook her head, turning to scan the landscape for Grist. She spotted him a few feet away, talking with Blane and she started toward them. Grist caught her eye, said something to Blane, and turned to stalk away. Amy frowned, continuing on toward the other man.

"What's happening?" she asked. "Where's Lord Grist going?"

"Landon and Robbard are still out searching," Blane replied, ignoring her questions. "Lord Grist is concerned. The sun will set soon."

"Is he going to send some of you out to look for them?"

"And risk losing more men?" Blane shook his head. "No. There's some time before it will be dark. Hopefully they will return." Blane turned away from her, going in to the cave. After a few minutes, she followed him.

When Amy returned to the cave, she found the men gathered around a fire. Ortel and Mortan were there as well, but neither of them would meet her gaze. All the men were digging into packs, bringing out cookware and food. She looked at the assortment as she went past, trying to figure out what they were getting ready to cook. Her stomach gave a slight rumble and she decided that it didn't really matter what they prepared; she was hungry and she would eat what she was offered.

When she reached Rory it was immediately obvious that he was hungry too. His stomach gave a loud rumble as she dropped down beside him and she arched her brows, biting back laugher.

"Was that your stomach?" she asked. Rory's face flushed.

"Yes," he said sheepishly. "Are all of the men back yet?"

"There's one more pair still out – Landon and Robbard," she answered. "Grist's worried." Rory nodded. Amy could see that he was worried too. He took a deep breath and she felt butterflies fill her stomach.

"I was thinking about tomorrow. I don't think taking Fitts with us is a good idea, but he can't stay here alone," he said. She stared at him, feeling her heart pounding at the thought of being separated from him again. She couldn't stay with him – someone had to keep Grist moving – but the she didn't know if she could leave him. She needed him with her, and the Doctor would need him too. She reached out to grab his hand, holding on tightly.

"You can't stay behind," she said. "The… the Doctor's hurt. He needs you."

"I know," he replied. "Some of the men will have to stay." Amy let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, feeling a rush of relief.

"Maybe we can leave Ortel and Mortan," she suggested. They were Fitts' fellow royal guards. It only made sense (to her, at least) for them to look after their fallen comrade. Rory frowned, his hold on her hand tightening.

"Is Mortan still staring…"

"No," Amy answered quickly, her lips twitching. "I think Ortel said something to him. Now he blushes bright red and runs the other way when he sees me." She laughed and Rory joined in, returning her smile. They fell silent, continuing to hold hands and grin at each other, until a groaning noise came from near Rory. Amy lifted her brows again, nudging him. "Your stomach…"

"Ssh," he scolded, turning toward Fitts. Another groan sounded and Amy realized it was the guard. Rory pulled his hand away from hers, reaching for the monitor. "He's waking up!"

"I'll tell Grist." Amy got to her feet, touching Rory's shoulder for a second before hurrying across the cave. Grist wasn't at the fire with his men and she went outside, squinting as the light from the setting sun hit her eyes. She didn't see the man anywhere near the cave either and she moved away, searching for him. _Surely he's not_ _still_ _avoiding me._ She rolled her eyes at the thought.

She finally found him, near the shrubs where they'd found Fitts. He seemed to be studying the ground and she called out to him as she drew closer.

"Here you are! Fitts is…" Grist held up a hand, cutting her off.

"Wait!" he called. "Just… wait." Amy came to a stop, staring at him in confusion. _He's standing behind a shrub, alone…_ She felt heat flood her face as she realized what he was doing and quickly turned around.

"Sorry!" she called. "Sorry. I'll… I'll be by the cave." She hurried away, fighting back giggles. _Ok. That's a valid reason to avoid me_ , she thought.

Grist joined her by the cave a few minutes later. His cheeks were pink with embarrassment and Amy fought back laughter.

"What did you want to tell me, Mistress Pond?" he asked, his expression stern.

"Fitts is waking up," she said, sobering at the thought. Grist didn't wait for her to say anything more; he charged into the cave and she hurried after him. They were finally going to find out if the man knew where the queen and the Doctor had gone. Amy hoped he could tell them about the Doctor's condition as well.

When they reached the back of the cave they found Rory giving Fitts a drink of water. The guard was in a sitting position, propped against the cave wall. He looked pale but his eyes were clear and his voice steady, if a little raspy.

"Lord Grist. Ma'am."

"Mr. Fitts," Grist said. "We… how are you feeling?"

"Weak," Fitts replied.

"Then we'll try to keep this brief. You told us before… you said the queen asked for your help to escape. What happened?"

"I had one of the horses saddled already when a fight broke out between Trock and Montague. I went to get Her Majesty and she insisted I bring the Doctor as well. That must be how Dawson spotted me – I had to go back into the cave to get the Doctor."

"You had to carry him?" Rory asked.

"He wasn't well, Sir," Fitts replied. "Her Majesty did her best to look after him – keeping him upright on his horse and making sure he got food and drink when we stopped – but he didn't have an easy time on the journey."

"The queen looked after him?" Amy asked, unable to contain her surprise. It wasn't the sort of behavior she would expect from royalty.

"Oh yes, Miss. She insisted on getting him food and water when we stopped at mid-day, and when I brought her a blanket last night she gave it to him instead. She was very… protective. I'm afraid her brother intended to use her compassion against her. I… I'm so ashamed of being a part of this." Fitts lowered his head. Amy glanced at Grist to see his jaw working as he frowned. He seemed not only worried but uncomfortable.

"Do you know where Anne… Her Majesty was planning to go?" he asked at last.

"We had no chance to talk," Fitts admitted. "Dawson was upon me almost as soon as I got the Doctor onto the horse."

"Did you at least see what direction they took?" pressed Grist. The other man nodded, his face grim as he looked up at them.

"That's part of what has me worried," he replied. "They were heading toward the Ostem Woods."

"What's wrong with that?" Amy asked.

"We were taking them to the Ostem Manor House. Her Majesty's father is waiting there." Grist muttered something under his breath and turned away. He moved a few feet away, standing with his back to the group and his head down. Amy watched him for a moment, until Rory spoke up. She turned back toward her husband and Fitts.

"You said the Doctor wasn't well. What symptoms… what seemed to be bothering him?"

"Well, he was in a lot of pain. The ride from camp was very rough and he was already injured."

"Was he oriented? Did he seem to know where he was?"

"I think he did, this morning at least. He spoke to me, asked me about Her Majesty. What he said… it made me realize how deceived I'd been."

"That sounds like the Doctor," Rory said, smiling. He looked over at Amy and she could see the relief in his face. She smiled back.

"It does," she agreed. She shifted her gaze to Fitts. "Why did you go along with this in the first place?"

"I wasn't one of the favored guards, not like Eckhart or Taylor. Her Majesty's brother convinced me it wasn't my fault, but the queen's. He promised me wealth and advancement."

"You were jealous and he exploited it."

"Yes," Fitts admitted, hanging his head. "After we left the camp, I could observe Her Majesty. What I saw… She wasn't as he described at all. She was smart and kind and brave." Grist made a sound and Amy looked back at him. He was staring at Fitts and for a second she thought she saw tears in his eyes. He made another noise and turned away, stalking across the cave. Amy went after him, finally catching up to him when he stopped at the cave's entrance. She stood beside him, staring out at the last traces of the setting sun. She wanted to ask him questions, but she forced herself to wait.

"I thought… I told myself she'd changed," Grist murmured. "She wasn't that compassionate girl I used to know anymore."

"What did she do to you?" Amy asked, keeping her gaze aimed out at the sun. She waited, half-expecting Grist to storm off.

"We were betrothed. She eloped with another man."

"The king."

"He was… I thought he was my best friend. We'd known each other since we were children. He was to marry a princess and when she came to court a month before their wedding, my family arranged for Anne to serve as one of her attendants. They thought the women might become friends."

"Didn't the king know she was your fiancé?"

"When Henry wanted something, he took it. He was the king – no one could refuse him."

"But Anne was supposed to."

"Yes!" Grist snapped. Amy turned toward him to find him glaring at her. He blew out a loud breath. "I knew she'd catch Henry's eye – as I told you red-heads aren't common in Umbria – but I never thought for a moment she'd give in to him. She was always so… stubborn."

"If she's so stubborn, how does her father expect to get what he wants?" Amy asked. "What does he want anyway?"

"He wants to be regent. He was supposed to be, until he was caught stealing from His Majesty's accounts. He was banished from court and stripped of titles. Henry changed his Orders of Succession on his death-bed, naming Anne instead."

"So, her father's planning to coerce her into making him regent? Can she do that?"

"She can't make him regent, but she can sign a document naming him her successor should anything happen to her," Grist replied. "That's what he's after."

"She won't live long after she's signed it, will she?"

"Anne's no fool. She'll have realized that. I just don't know how her father thinks he'll succeed. She's not going to hand her son over to him because he threatens her."

"He'll use the Doctor." Rory's voice came from behind them and both Amy and Grist turned to watch him approach. "Fitts overheard Geoff telling the queen she can spare him if she just cooperates."

"Spare him…" Amy felt her stomach twist. "They'll hurt him."

"There's nothing Theodore Ormond wouldn't do to get what he wants," Grist answered grimly. "He'd have no qualms about hurting your friend if he thought he could get Anne to yield."

"Then it's good they escaped," Rory said. Amy felt her stomach twist tighter. The Doctor hadn't been able to run, and the queen had ridden toward danger rather than away from it. How long had they managed to stay escaped? She could see the same fears in the faces of the others, but it was Grist who spoke them out loud.

"As long as they evaded recapture."


	30. Rory

Late that night Rory, Amy, and Grist sat in the cave's entrance, staring out into the darkness. Several hours had passed since Fitts awoke and shared his information with them. He was sleeping near the fire now, along with the rest of the men. Amy, Rory, and Grist were the only ones still awake. Every time Rory considered trying to sleep, the image of the Doctor trembling in pain just from having his arm moved into a sling, came to mind. Even if the Doctor and the queen managed to evade recapture, what condition would the Doctor be in when they found him?

The men had made supper for everyone not long after Fitts woke. The food had smelled good but no one had seemed to have much appetite. Amy had been subdued, while Grist had radiated tension. The men had been quiet as well, hunching over their plates instead of chattering as they had during the ride. Rory caught all of them stealing glances at Fitts from time to time. He was relieved to see no hostility in the looks from the men; they seemed curious and even sympathetic toward Fitts. He hoped their lack of hostility would continue once they realized that some of them would have to stay behind with the injured man.

The meal had been interrupted by the return of Landon and Robbard. Their arrival brought a rush of relief to the rest of the men, and even Grist's tension had eased a little. Landon had reported that he and Robbard had gone all the way to the edge of the Ostem Woods. They'd found a trail there, but it had been growing dark and they'd had to cut their exploration short. The return of the two young men had improved everyone's appetites. By the end of the meal the men were chatting happily and there'd even been some good-natured teasing between Grist's men and the two royal guards, Ortel and Mortan.

Rory glanced over at the sleeping men, before shifting his gaze back to his companions. Amy shivered slightly and he scooted closer to her, putting his arm around her. She didn't resist, sliding closer to him and resting her head on his shoulder. Grist was on the other side of her, staring up at the stars.

"The two of you should get some rest," he said, not looking over at them.

"So should you," Rory replied. Grist chuckled, continuing to stare out at the night sky. They were all silent for several minutes before Amy spoke up.

"I'm glad Landon and Robbard made it back," she said softly.

"As am I. They're good men."

"They all seem like good men to me," Amy replied. "Even Ortel and Mortan are growing on me."

"They are Eckhart's men. I'm sure they're… adequate in a fight."

"Do you expect to fight?" Amy asked.

"I hope it won't be necessary. I hope the queen and your friend are hidden somewhere in the woods and our greatest challenge will just be finding them." Grist shifted a little, glancing over at them. "That's my hope. But I'll prepare for a fight, in case they have been recaptured."

"Can you spare any of these men?" Rory asked. Grist frowned and he hastened to explain. "We can't bring Fitts with us tomorrow. He isn't strong enough yet. Someone's going to have to stay with him."

"Rory can't stay," Amy added. "We need him. The Doctor is hurt, and if there is a fight there may be other wounded men who'll need his help."

"Very well," Grist replied. "I'll speak with the men in the morning."

The three of them sat for a little while longer, but when Amy started to drift off they decided it was time they joined the rest near the fire. Amy and Rory unrolled their bedding beside each other and rolled up in their blankets. She reached out one hand and Rory took it in his. It wasn't long before Amy's hand went limp in his as she slept, and not long after that the sound of Grist's snores mingled with the breathing of the other men. Rory remained awake, unable to stop his racing thoughts. He couldn't stop worrying over the Doctor and Queen Anne. Geoff had to have been furious when they escaped; what would he do to them if he did recapture them?

Rory wasn't sure how long he lain awake, imagining dire scenarios, but at some point he fell asleep. The next thing he knew, someone was shaking him. He opened his eyes and was just able to make out a figure leaning over him. The figure spoke and he recognized Grist's voice.

"Master Williams – it's morning."

"Morning," Rory repeated, sitting up. He could just make out Amy's figure, still stretched out on the ground in sleep.

"I'll leave waking your wife to you," Grist said. It wasn't light enough for Rory to make out his expression but he could hear the man's smile in his voice. Rory smiled back ruefully; Amy definitely was not a morning person. Grist gave his shoulder a squeeze before moving away, crouching down beside another man to wake him. Rory turned to Amy, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

Waking Amy turned out to be one of the easier parts of his morning. Grist assembled his men to explain about the need for someone to remain with Fitts only to have Fitts protest the arrangement; he wanted to go with them to search for the queen. Rory argued with him for several minutes, finally winning the debate not because he had superior reasons but because Fitts exhausted himself. His point proved, Rory turned to giving instructions to the men who were to remain behind. Mortan was staying, as was a grizzled man called Herrond. Rory was relieved to see Mortan alert and attentive. He even nodded from time to time as he listened to the instructions. Apparently he reserved the blank stare for Amy. Herrond was also attentive and Rory finished his directions with a feeling of relief.

The sun was up by the time the group was ready to leave. The men had prepared a meal and the horses had needed watered and fed as well. Amy was growing impatient by the time the men started saddling the animals. Once the animals were ready, Grist gathered the men around to share with them a brief version of what Fitts had shared the night before. Amy waited near the cave's entrance, her arms folded over her chest and her foot tapping the ground in impatience. Rory waited beside her, wishing he could find some way to ease her tension. Grist wasn't stalling; the men needed to understand what they were riding into.

Finally Grist finished talking and the group started to move. Amy strode to her horse and hauled herself up without waiting for assistance. Rory followed suit, his legs protesting a little as he settled into the saddle. The last time he'd spent this much time on horse-back he'd been a plastic centurion and hadn't had to worry about sore muscles. He smirked a little at the thought before forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand. He could afford to become mired in the confusing jumble of his memories right now.

The group was quiet as they made their way toward the woods. Grist rode in the lead, with Landon beside him. Amy and Rory came next, with Blane, Robbard, and Ortel behind them. Amy was quiet as they rode along. Her impatience had eased but Rory could see she was still worried; there was a furrow between her brows as she frowned. He wanted to tell her everything would be alright, but he couldn't help worrying himself.

The trail into the woods was narrow and the group moved to single-file as they entered. The foliage was thick and they had to duck several times to avoid branches. Landon dropped from his horse after a short distance, leading the animal behind him as he scanned the ground. They hadn't gone far when he spotted a hoof-mark near the trail's edge. The group came to a stop as Grist dropped down from his horse and moved to examine the mark. He and Landon debated whether or not the mark indicated the horse had moved off the trail or not. Robbard came forward to join in the discussion. Rory glanced back to see Amy's frown deepening. He could feel his own impatience growing and he reminded himself there was no point rushing off in the wrong direction.

At last Grist sent Blane and Ortel further along the trail while Landon and Robbard were sent off the path to search for more signs of the other rider's progress. Grist, Amy, and Rory would wait where they were with the horses. Rory decided to stretch his legs a little and dropped from the saddle to join Grist on the ground. Amy followed suit, flinching a little as she landed.

"Is your ankle…" Grist began.

"It's fine," Amy said quickly. "Completely healed."

"Just like Fitts' gashes." Grist shifted his gaze to Rory. "Your med kit is remarkable, Master Williams."

"It's not mine actually," Rory said, glancing at Amy. "It's the Doctor's."

"Mm. And the three of you travel together."

"Yes," Amy answered.

"And you two are married."

"Yes." Amy's answer was terse. Rory reached out to take hold of her hand.

"The Doctor's our friend," he said firmly. Grist was about to ask more questions when the sound of crashing in the forest reached them. There were shouts, first from Landon and Robbard and then a woman shrieked. Rory took a step forward, his heart hammering. Had they just found the queen?

"Catch her!" called Landon as the crashing sounds continued. A second later a figure emerged from the forest, barreling toward them. Rory moved to intercept it and found himself knocked aside. He sat down hard. He could hear shrieking behind him and turned to see Grist wrestling with a woman. She was in a dress of rough homespun fabric, with pale hair in a sloppy braid down her back. Her skirt didn't seem to be hampering her much as she was kicking out at Grist's shins.

"Let me go!" she shouted, trying to pull away.

"Be still!" Grist yelled back, dodging a kick.

"Let me go!" the woman repeated, kicking out again. Rory turned away at the sound of approaching footsteps and heavy breathing. Landon and Robbard emerged from the forest, leading a small horse. They stopped to take in the scene, their eyes moving from Rory to Grist and the woman. Landon's lips started to twitch and Robbard grinned. He stepped forward, holding out a hand to help Rory to his feet. Grist howled and Rory turned to see one of the woman's kicks had landed. She was still lashing out but her energy was fading. Grist just needed to hold on a little longer. Landon began to chuckle and Rory felt himself start to smile. The scene was ridiculous; the young woman was squirming, continuing to kick out at her captor. Something had fallen from her pocket and Rory felt his face freeze as he recognized the silken fabric. It was the Doctor's burgundy bow-tie.


	31. The Doctor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to apologize for the delay in getting you this chapter, and thank you for your patience. I was/am having a shoulder issue (which makes typing painful) and the doctor gave me steroids. Instead of enhancing my performance, they made me REALLY loopy and easily distracted (ooh - look at the pretty sunshine reflecting off the walls!). The drugs are gone now (as is the sun, sadly) and the shoulder is improving. Hopefully there will be no more major delays in writing the rest of this story (other than this evening, when I will be cheering on the Butler Bulldogs in the NCAA bball championship).

The first thing the Doctor was aware of was pain. It took a moment for him to identify the sources. His head, shoulder, and ribs were all radiating pain. It shot from his temples around his head like a band, from his shoulder down his left arm to his fingers, and there was another band wrapped around his chest, starting on his left side. His stomach roiled and he was glad he'd had no breakfast. His head and shoulder were definitely more vocal than his ribs and he spent a minute trying to decide which of the two was worse. He finally concluded he couldn't; it was a tie.

He shifted a little and realized he wasn't alone. There were small hands on either side of his head, stroking his hair back from his temples. _Anne_ , he realized. He became aware of more sensations - his head was pillowed on something soft, while the rest of him was on a hard surface. _I'm on a floor and she's got my head in her lap_.

"Ssh. Stay still," Anne whispered, continuing to stroke his hair. He opened his eyes slowly, bracing himself for more pain. Wherever they were wasn't well lit, which was both good and bad. The low lighting meant no increase in head pain, but it also didn't allow him to see much. He could just make out the figure of Anne, leaning over him. She kept stroking his hair; the feel of her fingers against his scalp was soothing, almost hypnotic, and he let his eyes shut again.

"Where…" He stopped, trying to clear his throat. His voice was raspy from lack of use. Anne didn't wait for him to continue.

"We're in a wagon. The men at the house were my father's. He's with them. They're taking us to the Ostem Manor House."

"We're…" He paused, making certain before continuing. "Not moving."

"We stopped a few minutes ago. There was some kind of commotion but I couldn't hear enough of it to figure out what happened," Anne said. Her hands paused before moving again. "I'm sorry." Her voice trailed off and the Doctor opened his eyes, hoping he wouldn't find her crying. He still couldn't make out her face but with her leaning over him any tears were bound to land on him. He didn't feel any, and her hands were still on either side of his head.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he said.

"I tried to stall them at the house but Luke figured out you'd headed for the barn. He brought you down off the horse."

"What about Maggie?"

"She escaped." Anne took a shuddering breath. "My father… Luke's dead. I think the old man too. I'm so sorry…"

"Ssh," the Doctor chided, reaching up to catch one of her hands. A few seconds later they both heard the sound of voices from outside the wagon. There were shouts and sounds of an argument. The Doctor strained to hear, but he only caught snatches of their conversation. As far as he could tell, the party had encountered two armed men. One had escaped but the second had been killed. Two of the men were pleased with this result, but it was quickly apparent their leader was not. The man didn't have to raise his voice to cut through the commotion. _So this is Anne's father_ , the Doctor thought. There was no mistaking the menace in the man's tone. His words were like a blade, slicing in to everyone as he expressed his displeasure with their performance.

"He should have been captured. Now we have no way of knowing who he was or what he was doing here."

"I think I know this man, Father." Geoff's voice was hesitant. "I remember him, from Grist's estate." Anne gasped and the Doctor tightened his grip on her hand.

"Don't be ridiculous. Grist hasn't been at court in years and even if he has chosen to return, these woods are nowhere near the route he would take."

"I still think I know this man," Geoff replied, sounding less certain. His father made an impatient noise and the younger man fell silent.

"Dawson – you and Montague will search for the other rider. Trock – you and Geoff will escort the wagon on to the manor before joining the others in the search."

"Yes, Sir," said one of the men. The Doctor thought he recognized Trock's voice.

"I want this second man found, and I want him brought to me alive," Anne's father continued. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Sir." This time the answer was a chorus.

"Be on your way then." The older man's tone was dismissive. The younger men seemed to talk for a few more minutes but their voices were too quiet for the Doctor to make out what they were saying. The low babble continued until Anne's father cut it off with a sigh of irritation.

"Put the body into the wagon already and let's go," he snapped. A moment later the wagon door was jerked open and the body of a man was thrust inside before the door was slammed shut. The combination of the bright sunlight and the loud bang of the door combined to make the throbbing in the Doctor's head intensify.

"I need to see this man," Anne whispered. "Can you move?"

"Yes." With her assistance he shifted, sitting up slowly. She helped him settle with his back against the wagon's wall before crawling away. He turned his head to watch her as she neared the body. The man was face-down on the wagon floor and she had to turn him. The Doctor could just make out her figure in the dim lighting of the wagon and he wondered if she'd be able to see well enough to identify the dead man. She rolled the body carefully and her sharp intake of breath told him she could see and she did know the man. After a moment she let the body roll back into place, shrinking away from it as the wagon jerked forward.

"Who… who is he?" asked the Doctor, struggling to brace himself against the wagon's sway. Anne turned, taking in his plight, and crawled back to him.

"His name is Mattias. He grew up on the Grist estate," she answered. Her voice was shaking. "We played together as children."

"I'm sorry…"

"I can't understand what he was doing here. My father's right – these woods aren't on any route from Grist's home to the palace." The Doctor was about to ask her why Grist would be coming to the palace now after so many years absence when the wagon hit a huge bump. Anne gave a yelp as they both were lifted from the floor. He landed hard, banging his tailbone on the floor and his head against the wall. He clenched his mouth shut against a wave of nausea.

The rest of the trip was bone-jarring and by the time they stopped, the Doctor was in agony. Anne had done her best to cushion him, but each jerk and bounce had sent a fresh stab of pain through him. They hit a few more bumps and by the time they stopped, Anne was hissing and wincing as well. Their relief at stopping only lasted a moment; the wagon door was jerked open, flooding the compartment with light. The Doctor shut his eyes against the brightness. He heard the body dragged away and then felt the wagon shift as one of the men climbed aboard. Hands caught at him and Anne protested as they roughly pulled him to the door. He opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of trees and a large half-timbered house before he lurched toward the ground. Hands caught him before he could fall, sending more pain stabbing through his shoulder. His stomach heaved and the hands holding his arms released him. He dropped to his knees on the ground, retching.

"My boots!" protested one of the men. The Doctor thought he recognized Geoff's voice. Both sets of feet moved out of his line of sight as he continued to retch. There was a rustle of fabric and then he felt Anne's hands supporting him, keeping his weight off his bad arm. He leaned into her as his stomach finally subsided.

"Get away from him, Annie," Geoff growled, his boots coming back in to view.

"Easy now, Son. You'll get your boots splattered again." The Doctor tipped his head back to see the white-haired man approaching. He had a wide brow, a hawk-like nose, and thin lips. He was half-smiling, half-sneering now, his dark eyes glinting. He reached down to haul the Doctor up by his good arm, steadying him once he was upright. Anne rose as well, her face anxious. The man ignored her, keeping his gaze fixed on the Doctor.

"I understand I owe you some thanks, young man," he said. "It seems my son couldn't manage to follow my plan and create a distraction. If you and your friends hadn't come along, I wouldn't have had this opportunity to reconcile with my daughter."

"Oh, is that what this is?" asked the Doctor, glancing over at Anne. "I guess we got confused by all the swords."

"My daughter's stubbornness left me with no other choice," replied the man. "Sometimes children refuse to see what must be done."

"So you're going to show her."

"I'm going to ensure she does what she should."

"And where do I fit in?"

"Oh, I think your help will prove invaluable, Doctor."

"Leave him alone, Father," Anne protested.

"What would you have me do, Annie? Turn him loose in the woods? He's in no condition to wander out there on his own. No, better he stay here with us where we can look after him."

"If you harm him…" Anne's eyes went wide as her father's hand came to rest lightly on the Doctor's injured shoulder. He didn't exert any pressure as he smiled at his daughter.

"I'm sure you'll give me no reason to even think of harming this young man, Anne," he answered. He squeezed gently and the Doctor gasped as pain shot through him. The world started to go grey and he closed his eyes.

"Stop it!" Anne cried. There were scuffling noises, gravel shifting under feet and grunts, followed by the sound of a slap. The hand on his shoulder moved away and there was another slap. Small hands caught him when he started to sway and he opened his eyes. For a second all he could see was a colored blob. He blinked and his vision cleared to reveal he was leaning on Anne. He winced at the red hand-mark on her cheek.

"I've got you," she whispered.

"You will not strike your sister, Geoff," growled her father. "She cannot go back to court marked."

"Yes, Father." Geoff's voice was sullen.

"Let's get them into the house now."

The men let Anne support the Doctor as they made their way in to the house. They crossed a large, high-ceilinged hall, moving past long tables and ornate tapestries. There were two fireplaces, one at either end of the room, with fires blazing in both. The warmth of the room made the Doctor realize how chilled he was. Unfortunately they didn't linger there. The men led them on to a narrow staircase and down the steps.

The floor below was far less inviting. The walls and floor were made of stone and a damp chill permeated the air. Even more chilling was what the room contained. A rack sat in one corner, and something the Doctor thought was a Scavenger's Daughter. There was a brazier in another corner, burning low, with a collection of brands hanging on the wall beside it. A pillory sat in another corner, and scattered across a long table were thumbscrews and assorted knives. In the center of the room stood a wooden chair, with straps on the arms, legs and the back to hold a prisoner in place. The Doctor fervently hoped they'd move past this torture-chamber but instead the group came to a halt. Anne's father joined them, looking around the room and nodding in satisfaction.

"The late duke had quite a collection," he said, sounding gleeful. "Of course, I'm sure we won't need to use it. At least, not all of it." He smiled and rubbed his hands together. "Put him in the chair."


	32. Anne

Anne's mind raced as the wagon bounced along. She'd felt a wave of despair when she recognized Mattias' face. First Fitts, then Luke and Fragin, and now a childhood friend were all dead. She'd been ready to lose herself in self-pity when the Doctor's voice reminded her there was still one more life in jeopardy. _You can't give up_ , she chided herself. _You have to save him_. She'd moved to sit beside the injured man, trying to shelter him from the worst of the jolts. They didn't talk; the Doctor had his jaw clenched shut in pain and Anne was trying to figure out what had brought Mattias to the Ostem Woods. She had no doubt he was serving Grist as a retainer, just as his father had served Grist's father, which meant Grist himself couldn't be far away. What was he doing here? She had asked him to return to court a few weeks ago but she hadn't really expected he'd comply. Even if he had, her father was correct – the Ostem Woods were not on the route from his estate to the palace. It was likely he would have passed by the crater on his way to court, but it was too much to hope he'd learned of her abduction and was searching for her. _Even if he did arrive at just the right time to learn of what's happened, he despises you_ , she told herself. Her thoughts kept racing as the wagon bounced along; she didn't dare hope for rescue, but at the same time she couldn't think of any other reason for Grist to be in the woods.

By the time they stopped, Anne's tailbone felt bruised and her head was pounding. They'd been lifted airborne by a few bumps and she'd banged her head into the wall at least once. She knew her pains had to be insignificant compared to the Doctor's. He'd had a large man knock him from a horse and land on top of him before being thrust into the jostling wagon. She couldn't see his face very clearly in the dim interior of the wagon but she could feel the tension radiating off of him. When the wagon door was thrown open, the sudden influx of light showed her he was pale, his face drawn with pain and his eyes squeezed shut. She turned as Geoff dragged Mattias' body out of the way, dropping it to the ground before climbing in to retrieve the Doctor.

"Don't!" Anne protested as he roughly pulled the injured man out of the wagon. She moved after them as quickly as she could, dropping from the wagon unaided. The Doctor was hunched over, retching, and she felt a surge of satisfaction when some of it landed on Geoff's boots. Her brother took a step back, whining in complaint, and the Doctor dropped to the ground. Anne crouched beside him, slipping her arms around him. He leaned in to her and she was relieved he'd stopped heaving.

"Get away from him, Annie," Geoff snapped, stepping toward them. Anne watched him warily. Her heart was pounding in her chest and it increased in speed when her father came up beside her brother.

"Easy now, Son," he said, sounding amused. "You'll get your boots splattered again." The Doctor shifted in her arms, lifting his head so he could watch her father, and Anne fought the urge to tighten her grip on him. Her father reached down, catching the Doctor's uninjured arm and pulling him away from her. He hauled the injured man to his feet and she stood quickly, ready to lend support or block a blow. To her surprise, her father didn't strike out. He kept one hand on the Doctor's arm, steadying him as he looked him over. When he spoke, his tone was casual, almost friendly.

"I understand I owe you some thanks, young man," he said. His voice turned more scornful as he continued. "It seems my son couldn't manage to follow my plan and create a distraction. If you and your friends hadn't come along, I wouldn't have had this opportunity to reconcile with my daughter."

The Doctor glanced at Anne, arching his brows. "Oh, is that what this is? I guess we got confused by all the swords." She readied herself but her father didn't move. He gave the Doctor a sad smile.

"My daughter's stubbornness left me with no other choice. Sometimes children refuse to see what must be done."

"So you're going to show her."

"I'm going to ensure she does what she should," her father replied. His voice was still calm and even but Anne could see a vein in his temple throbbing. She took a half-step closer to the Doctor, watching warily.

"And where do I fit in?" asked the Doctor.

"Oh, I think your help will prove invaluable, Doctor." Her father smiled, his eyes glittering meanly. Anne took another half-step forward, intending to put herself between the two men.

"Leave him alone, Father," she said. Her father turned his gaze to her, moving a little closer to the Doctor.

"What would you have me do, Annie?" he asked. "Turn him loose in the woods? He's in no condition to wander out there on his own. No, better he stay here with us where we can look after him."

"If you harm him…" Anne let her voice trail off as her father moved, lifting one hand and resting it on the Doctor's injured shoulder. She could see he wasn't exerting any pressure, but the message was clear. _I can hurt this man any time I wish, and there's nothing you can do about it._ She froze, staring fixedly at her father's hand as her heart thudded.

"I'm sure you'll give me no reason to even think of harming this young man, Anne," he told her. His hand moved, flexing and then contracting. The Doctor gasped as his injured shoulder was squeezed, shutting his eyes as he paled. Anne couldn't stop herself from crying out.

"Stop it!" She lunged at her father, intending to push him away, only to be intercepted by Geoff. Her brother pulled her away, delivering a stinging slap to her cheek when she resisted. To her surprise, her father lashed out, smacking Geoff solidly. Her brother released her, clearly stunned, and she moved to catch the Doctor as he started to sway.

"I've got you," she whispered. He blinked at her, wincing a little. Her father was reprimanding her brother, his voice harsh.

"You will not strike your sister, Geoff. She cannot go back to court marked."

"Yes, Father," replied Geoff, sounding sulky.

"Let's get them into the house now," her father ordered. Geoff took a step toward Anne before stopping and motioning her to go ahead. She started forward, trying not to cringe. She fully expected to be struck from behind at any moment, but to her surprise no blow came. The men let her continue to support the Doctor as they made their way up a gravel path to the house.

The grand hall of the Ostem Manor house was large yet cluttered. There were long trestle tables running down the center of the room and a half-dozen tapestries decorated the walls. The hangings were too large for the space and crowded together. They were also, in Anne's opinion, ugly. Interspersed throughout the room were hunting trophies. Many of the stuffed animals seemed to be suffering from mange. It was obvious the room had fallen into disrepair even before the duke's death. The room smelled musty and Anne could see cobwebs in several corners.

Anne's relief at not lingering in the stuffiness of the hall was short-lived. She'd expected the duke to have some sort of dungeon beneath his house, but the room they found at the bottom of the stairs was a torture chamber. She fought back a cringe as she caught sight of the rack as well as the brazier and brands. A chair rested in the center of the room, with straps to hold a victim in place. She felt her stomach churn at the sight; no doubt her father would start there, moving to the other devices when she failed to yield to his demands.

Anne's father came down the steps, looking around the room with a pleased smile on his face.

"The late duke had quite a collection," he said, sounding proud. "Of course, I'm sure we won't need to use it. At least, not all of it." He grinned, rubbing his hands together gleefully. "Put him in the chair."

"No!" Anne cried, stepping between the Doctor and the other men. Trock chuckled, his lip curling in a sneer. She could see one of his hands clenching into a fist as he started to move forward. She lifted her chin defiantly, waiting for him to strike. To her surprise, Geoff stepped around Trock, blocking his path.

"For pity's sake, Annie," he muttered, catching her shoulders. She struggled as he moved her aside, pushing her back into a corner of the room.

"Pity?" she asked. "I don't think you know the meaning of the word." She squirmed, managing to look around him to see Trock pushing the Doctor into the chair. Another man had entered the room – a huge hulking figure clad in black. Geoff moved in to her line of sight again, frowning down at her.

"You can stop all this fuss if you just do what Father wants," he answered, keeping his voice low. "No one has to be hurt…"

"That boy at the cottage was helping you, Geoff. You saw how Father repaid him. He's not going to let the Doctor go no matter what I do." She twisted, trying to see what was happening out in the room.

"Then let it be over quickly…"

"That's enough, Geoff," called their father. "I know you both were taught better manners than this – whispering secrets in front of others." Her brother released her, watching her warily as he turned to face their father. Trock had left the room, presumably going to join Dawson and Montague in their search for Mattias' companion. The hulking man had gone to the brazier and was working to coax more flames from the coals. Anne could see the handles of two brands hanging over the edge; presumably their business ends were resting on the coal bed. She felt sick and forced herself to turn her gaze back to her father.

"We certainly didn't learn our manners from you," she told him, taking a step out of the corner. Geoff moved with her, trying to divide his gaze between her and their father. "Lady Grist was kind enough to show us how real ladies and gentlemen behave. It's a shame my brother's forgotten."

"You did spend a good deal of your time with our high and mighty neighbors, didn't you? Lady Grist was quite fond of you both, but I believe you were her favorite, Anne." Her father shook his head, tsking. "It is fortunate she died before she had a chance to see the sort of woman you truly are. The way you treated her son..."

"She would have been heartbroken," Anne said, looking away from his smug expression. Her eyes met the Doctor's and she froze. Instead of recrimination she found only sympathy and understanding in his gaze.

"Enough reminiscing," announced her father. "It's time we got down to business." He glanced at the man by the brazier, who nodded.

"The brands are nearly ready, Sir."

"Good," answered her father, smiling. He turned toward the chair and Anne lunged forward, intent on stopping him. Geoff caught her, pulling her back as their father reached out to grab the Doctor's shirt-front. He yanked hard, making buttons fly. A few more harsh tugs and the shirt was in tatters, hanging off the Doctor's arms. Her father stood back, tutting as he took in the bruises on the Doctor's torso. "She hasn't looked after you very well, has she?" Anne squirmed in Geoff's grasp, her heart pounding and stomach churning. She was frantic to find some way to stop this but her brain felt frozen.


	33. Amy

t had taken entirely too long, in Amy's opinion, for Grist and his men to get moving that morning. First they'd prepared a hot breakfast for everyone. Feeding and watering the horses had come next and seemed to take an awfully long time. When they finished that chore, Amy had thought they'd finally be ready to go but instead Grist had gathered them together for some sort of briefing. By the time they actually were ready to move, the sun was up and Amy was ready to snap. She'd relaxed a little as they rode out from the cave toward the woods, but just when she felt they were really moving, they reached the forest and had to slow down. The foliage was thick and the trail they found narrow, forcing them to ride single-file. Landon lead the way, dismounting after a few yards and walking ahead of his horse as he scanned the ground. Amy knew he was searching for signs of other riders taking this route but she still felt herself growing impatient, especially once he did find a hoof-print. Grist joined him in studying the mark on the ground, followed by Robbard. A discussion about what the mark meant, how old it was, and where it suggested the horse had been going followed. Amy was ready to scream. _Does_ _everything_ _have to be discussed in committee?_ she wondered. She was about to complain when the men finally came to a conclusion.

Blane and Ortel were sent ahead on the trail to look for any additional signs of a rider's passage. Landon and Robbard headed off the path into the forest, searching for clues there. Amy, Rory, and Grist waited where they were along with all of the horses. After a few minutes, Rory climbed down from his saddle, grimacing slightly. Amy did the same, wincing a bit as her feet hit the ground. She'd never realized how many muscles were involved in riding a horse. Grist noted her flinch, a look of concern coming over his face.

"Is your ankle…"

"It's fine. Completely healed," Amy assured him.

"Just like Fitts' gashes," Grist said, looking over to Rory. "Your med kit is remarkable, Master Williams."

"It's not mine actually. It's the Doctor's," replied Rory.

"Mm." Grist nodded. "And the three of you travel together." It wasn't delivered as a question really but Amy still felt the need to answer.

"Yes."

"And you two are married."

"Yes." Amy could feel herself bristle at his tone. Rory caught her hand in his and she exhaled slowly, trying to reign in her temper.

"The Doctor's our friend." Rory's voice was firm and Amy nodded. It had taken some time (and multiple time-lines) but Rory was no longer threatened by the Doctor. She even had hopes the two of them might be becoming friends.

Grist looked like he wanted to ask more questions, but the sound of someone crashing through the foliage interrupted any further conversation. They all turned as shouts came from the forest. First they heard Landon and Robbard calling out, and then a woman's shrill scream sounded. Rory took a step forward, putting himself between Amy and the approaching commotion. She felt her heart race as the crashing drew closer. What had caused the woman to cry out like that?

"Catch her!" yelled Landon. A woman emerged from the trees a second later, charging toward them. Rory was knocked to the ground as he tried to block her path. Amy turned to start after her but Grist moved quickly, catching the woman about the waist. She struggled and shrieked, kicking out at her captor. The woman's simple dress was hitched up about her knees as she kicked and her dingy blonde hair was rapidly escaping the braid she wore it in. She was quite a contrast to the elegantly dressed and coiffed women Amy had encountered at Stoketon Manor.

"Let me go!" she cried, continuing to struggle in Grist's grasp.

"Be still!" he shouted, dodging another kick.

"Let me go!" This time the woman's blow landed and Grist yelped in pain. There was more crashing in the forest and Amy turned as Landon and Robbard arrived. The two men took in the scene before them and struggled not to smile. Rory was still sitting on the ground and Robbard came forward to offer him a hand up. Amy could see Rory's lips twitching as well, until something on the ground nearby caught his eye. His face fell and Amy followed his gaze, sucking in a gasp as she realized what they were staring at. A strip of fabric was on the path a few feet from Grist and the struggling woman. Amy could feel her heart thudding. Amy moved to retrieve it, feeling the blood drain from her face as she confirmed it was the Doctor's bow-tie.

"Amy…" Rory was behind her, one hand touching her shoulder. She got to her feet, turning toward him with the strip of silk in her hands.

"This is the Doctor's tie," she told him.

"I know," he said anxiously. "I know." Amy turned from her husband to look at the woman struggling with Grist. She was clearly tiring, her kicks coming less frequently and less forcefully. Amy took a step toward them and the woman looked over, her pale eyes wide and frightened.

"Where did you get this?" Amy asked, holding out the bow-tie. The woman's eyes grew wider and she turned away, struggling more forcefully.

"This… this belongs to a friend of ours," Rory said, stepping up beside Amy. "We're trying to find him. Please, if you know where he is…"

"I don't know anything!" the woman cried. "Let me go!"

"You must have seen him," Amy persisted. "This is his tie."

"He would have been with a woman," added Rory. "Pretty, with red hair and brown eyes. Our friend was hurt a few days ago and we're very worried about him." The woman looked over at him and Amy could see how frightened and exhausted she was. There was a bruise on one cheek where someone had struck her. She glanced at Rory before taking a step toward the woman.

"No one here is going to hurt you," she said. "We just want to find our friends."

"Lord Grist is going to let you go now," Rory added. Grist stared at him for a second before sighing. He slowly let go of the woman. Amy waited, her heart hammering, but the woman remained where she was, staring at Rory.

"You're… you're really their friends?" she asked at last. Amy nodded, hoping her sincerity was obvious in her face.

"Yes," she said.

"Prove it," the woman answered, folding her arms across her chest and raising her chin defiantly. Amy looked at Rory, unsure how to proceed. He lifted his hands in a helpless gesture.

"He… he's got dark brown hair – it's kind of… floppy and messy, and his eyes are hazel," Amy said. "Sometimes they look green, other times they look blue or brown." The woman continued to look skeptical and Amy turned to Rory for help.

"He would have been limping," Rory added. "He twisted his left ankle a few days ago, and his right arm should have been in a sling." They waited but the woman didn't budge. Her arms were still crossed and she still looked doubtful. Amy took a deep breath and tried again.

"This… this is our friend's tie," she said, holding up the silk. "It's a bow-tie and he insists it's 'cool.'" When the woman continued to frown, Amy sighed. "For pity's sake, look at us. The man you met was dressed strangely, and we're not exactly dressed like normal people either. What are the chances of you meeting three strangely-clothed people and them not being together?" The woman still didn't speak and Amy could feel her frustration growing.

"Listen," Rory said, "I know you're tired and you're frightened, but I promise you, we're not looking to hurt anyone. We just want to find our friends and make sure they're safe."

"You're… you're really their friends?"

"Yes," Amy answered, taking a step toward the woman. "My name's Amy and this is my husband, Rory."

"I… I'm Maggie," the woman said, finally letting her arms drop. She wobbled a little and Amy took another step toward her, reaching out to steady her. Rory said something behind her, appearing at her side a moment later with a canteen. They helped the woman sit on the ground and offered her the water. Her hands were trembling and Rory steadied the canteen for her.

"Are you hungry?" he asked. Maggie shook her head.

"There's no time," she said. "Your friends are in terrible danger." There were tears in her eyes and Amy moved closer, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"What happened?" she asked. Maggie hesitated, looking past Rory to Grist and his men. "You… you're sure you can trust these men?" she asked.

"They're helping us," Rory replied. "We wouldn't be here if it weren't for them."

"Please, tell us what's happened," Amy added.

"Your friends stayed at our cottage last night," Maggie said. "This morning some men came to take them away. I tried to sneak them out through the cellar but the men were coming into the house. The queen was so brave – she insisted I get your friend out. I took him to the barn to get a horse but he… he was knocked off as we tried to escape." Tears were coursing down Maggie's face now and she wiped at them.

"Where were these men taking them?" Grist asked, crouching down so he was at eye-level with the woman. He held out a handkerchief and Maggie took it with a shaking hand.

"The Ostem Manor House," she replied, wiping at her face. She turned to Amy. "I… I'm so sorry. I… I didn't stop. I just left your friend…" She was crying again, tears streaking down her face. Amy stared at her, fighting with her own emotions. She was furious with the woman for abandoning the Doctor, but she also realized there was probably nothing else Maggie could have done. When she stayed silent, Rory spoke up.

"It's ok," he told Maggie. "You found us and now we know where they are." Amy got to her feet, moving away from the woman as Rory continued to reassure her. Grist stepped into her path.

"Hold your anger for the people who really deserve it," he said quietly. "This woman did the best she could." Amy huffed out a breath and nodded.

"How far away is the Ostem Manor?"

"About an hour's ride from here. There's another route we can take which will be quicker than this trail. I've sent Robbard to bring Blane and Ortel back. We'll go once they arrive."

"Ok," Amy said. She turned to look at Rory and Maggie. Landon had joined them and as she watched, he said something which made the woman giggle. Amy moved back to the group, crouching down beside Rory. He glanced over at her.

"What did Grist say?" he asked quietly.

"Ostem Manor House is about an hour's ride from here. Robbard's getting Blane and Ortel so we can go. He says we won't continue on this trail; he knows a different route." Amy glanced over at Maggie, who was eating a piece of bread Landon had brought her. "Is she able to ride?"

"She's tired and hungry, but I think she'll be ok." Rory slipped an arm around Amy's shoulders, pulling her up against him. "We're going to get him back, Amy. We know where he is now."

"I know," Amy answered. She tried to take comfort from what Rory was saying, but she couldn't stop thinking about what Fitts and Grist had told them the night before. How long ago had the Doctor been recaptured? The queen's father could be hurting him right now. She shuddered and Rory drew her closer.

"We're going to get him back," he repeated, his voice firm.


	34. Rory

Rory's relief at Maggie's willingness to share what she knew was short-lived. She'd confessed to abandoning the Doctor after he'd been knocked from their horse, apologizing as she cried. Amy's face had set in hard lines and he hastened to reassure Maggie. He'd kept a wary eye on Amy as he spoke; her anger was obvious. She had gotten to her feet after a moment and stalked away. He saw Grist speaking to her and turned his attentions back to the trembling woman beside him.

Landon approached them and Maggie seemed to shrink. Rory half-expected her to hide behind him. Landon crouched down, smiling at her as he held out a piece of bread.

"Are you hungry?" he asked. Maggie nodded, glancing at Rory. He gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile and she reached out to take the offered food.

"Thank you," she mumbled, ducking her head as she began to eat. Landon lowered himself to the ground, continuing to smile at the woman. He had an open, friendly manner and Rory had no doubt he'd soon put Maggie at ease.

"You don't need to worry about Lord Grist back there," Landon told her, gesturing toward the older man. "Mistress Pond will keep him in line. Don't tell him I said this, but I think he's terrified of red-heads." Maggie giggled and Rory smiled.

"Don't tell Amy either," he murmured, earning more giggles from Maggie and a chuckle from Landon. A shadow moved across him and he looked up to see Amy approaching. _Oh God – I hope she didn't hear us_ , he thought. She looked worried rather than angry as she sat down beside him.

"What did Grist say?" he asked, keeping his voice low as Maggie and Landon continued chatting.

"Ostem Manor House is about an hour's ride from here," Amy said. "Robbard's getting Blane and Ortel so we can go. He says we won't continue on this trail; he knows a different route. Is she able to ride?" She nodded at Maggie.

"She's tired and hungry, but I think she'll be ok," he answered. Amy was quiet, her face still full of worry. He scooted toward her, putting his arm around her shoulders. "We're going to get him back, Amy. We know where he is now."

"I know." Her voice was flat and when she shuddered, Rory pulled her closer. He could understand her worry; Grist's words about Theodore Ormond were running through his head. "We're going to get him back," he repeated. _What condition will he be in?_ he wondered, suppressing a shudder of his own. _One problem at a time_ , he told himself, turning his attention back to his companions. Landon was asking Maggie about her horse.

"I fell off," she explained, her face flushing a little. "I'm not a very good rider and there wasn't time to put a saddle on this morning."

"Are you alright?" Landon asked. "You're not hurt?"

"No, I'm fine. The horse ran away though so I had to walk."

"It's lucky you found us," Landon told her.

"You said men came to your house this morning to find our friend and the queen. How did they know they were there?" asked Amy.

"It was my brother," Maggie answered, looking sheepish. "He goes to the manor house a lot now the old duke is dead. There's a maid there… Anyway, he met these men there and they told him they were looking for some people. I'm not sure what they promised him, but he brought them to our house."

"And you decided to help the queen and the Doctor escape," Landon said, beaming at her. "Good for you."

"I was too slow though. There wasn't time for Her Majesty to get down into the cellar before the men came in to the house. I got your friend – the Doctor – through the tunnel to the barn but my brother must have realized what I was doing because two of the men were coming for us when we rode out."

"How was the Doctor?" Rory asked "I mean, before he got knocked off the horse. Was he… did he seem…" He stopped, unsure how to ask his question. He wanted to know if the Doctor had been coherent, but the Doctor didn't always make sense even when he hadn't hit his head. He looked to Amy for help and she tried to explain.

"He fell from a cliff a few days ago. He hit his head and hurt his shoulder and ankle. We're really worried."

"He seemed… tired," Maggie answered. "Really tired. The queen… they told us they were newlyweds, traveling to Hempsted. I believed them. She was very… tender with him and he seemed fond of her too."

"Newlyweds…" Rory fell silent when Amy elbowed him, tipping her head toward Grist. He lowered his voice. "Why would they have said that?"

"A man and a woman traveling together, with no chaperones – there's only two respectable explanations," Landon said. "Either they're brother and sister or man and wife." Maggie nodded in agreement.

"You can be sure my father questioned them. He's very old-fashioned." She was going to say more but something over Rory's shoulder caught her eye. She gasped and he turned to see Robbard returning with Blane and Ortel. When he looked back to Maggie, he could see she was staring at the royal guard.

"The men who came this morning wore uniforms like that," she whispered.

"It's ok," Rory assured her. "That's Ortel – he's with us. He's one of Her Majesty's guard. The men you saw this morning were too, but they've betrayed her."

"How many men were there?" Landon asked. "Can you describe them?"

"There were five all together. Three wore those uniforms, and there were two others in regular clothes. The younger one was loud and bossy. The older was quiet, but you could tell he was really in charge. He had the most evil eyes." Maggie shuddered and Landon put a hand on her arm.

"You're safe with us now," he told her. She nodded slowly and Landon shifted on the ground. "I need to let Lord Grist know what you've told me," he said. "I'll be back." He gave her arm another pat before getting to his feet. Rory watched him cross to the older man. They spoke for a few minutes before Grist called everyone together.

Once the group was assembled, Grist began to explain his plan for approaching the manor. The building was a house, with no fortifications. Grist was unsure how many armed men they might be facing, or how many of the servants might be involved. He wanted to approach the building stealthily and hoped they might be able to get inside without alerting Ormond or his men.

"Mistress Fragin will ride with you, Mistress Pond," he announced. "Stay close to them, Master Williams. When we reach the manor, I want the three of you to stay well back until I let you know it's safe to approach the house." Amy started to protest and Grist shook his head. "You'll do your friend no good if you get yourselves hurt or killed."

"He's right, Amy," Rory said, earning himself a frown from his wife. "We don't have any weapons anyway." Amy sighed but let the matter drop. A few minutes later they mounted their horses and started back out of the forest.

Grist led the group along the edge of the woods. Rory found his eyes drawn to the swords the men carried. They were longer and heavier than those he'd used as a Centurion, but the basic principles would be the same. He'd remembered how to ride a horse; could he remember how to wield a sword as well? He felt a headache building as he considered the idea. Flashes of memory came to him – the sound of metal against the metal, the way the muscles in his arm had tingled when his blade connected with his opponent's, the angry face of his blue-painted enemy…

"Rory!" Amy's voice shattered his reverie, bringing him back to the present. Amy had one arm stretched out, catching on to his horse's bridle. The rest of the party had come to a stop and Rory felt his face grow warm as he realized they were staring at him.

"Sorry," he said. "Sorry."

"Are you alright?" Amy asked.

"I'm ok," he told her. "I was just… remembering."

"Remembering what? You were white as a sheet."

"I'm ok," he repeated, ignoring her question. The memories were fading already, taking the ache in his head with them. He didn't want to bring them back. He turned his attention to Grist, trying to ignore Amy's stare. Grist watched him for a moment before speaking.

"We're about to enter the forest. I don't know if Ormond has men enough to spare for watching this road but we need to be alert, and quiet. Landon, Robbard, I want you to go ahead of us. Master Williams, you and your wife will ride with me. Ortel, Blane – form a rear guard." The men nodded, moving into position. Landon and Robbard went into the woods first. Grist waited a few minutes before following them. Rory moved with him, catching a glimpse of Maggie peeking out around Amy. Her eyes were wide and she was worrying her lower lip with her teeth. He gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

"Are you alright, Master Williams?" Grist asked quietly as they moved past the first of the trees. "You didn't look well."

"I'm fine," Rory answered.

"We'll do our best to keep you out of harm's way."

"I'm not worried for myself," Rory replied. Grist nodded knowingly.

"It's difficult to know what to expect," he said quietly. "I'm trying to concentrate on how to get in to the manor and not letting myself consider what Ormond might be doing in there."

"Yeah." Rory swallowed a lump. "Fighting is definitely easier than waiting."

"Now you sound like a soldier," Grist chuckled. "I didn't know you could fight as well as heal."

"I don't… I don't know if I can," Rory admitted.

"But you were a soldier once."

"No… yes. Sort of. It was a long time ago."

"I'm afraid we don't have any extra swords with us," Grist told him. "You'll have to watch for your chances to acquire one when we reach the manor."

"Right." Rory nodded, trying not to think about how he'd have such an opportunity.

They rode on in silence. Rory could feel tension knotting in his shoulder blades as the forest on either side of them grew thicker. Anyone could be hiding amongst the trees, waiting to either leap out at them or, worse, run back to the manor house and report on their presence. Grist seemed to share his concerns. He slowed his horse, stopping from time to time to scan the foliage. Rory felt his apprehension growing as they neared a curve in the road. There was someone out there, watching them. He could feel it.

A shout sounded from up ahead, making everyone start. Grist spurred his horse forward at a run and Rory moved with him. Amy yelled in protest behind them but they were heading around the curve and Rory didn't slow his animal. Just ahead he could make out Landon and Robbard's horses. Someone was kneeling on the ground beside another figure. Grist dropped from his saddle as his horse came to a stop, striding toward the pair on the ground. Rory brought his horse to a halt, looking to Robbard, who was still in his saddle.

"It's one of our advance riders – Jenkins," Robbard explained. Rory started to dismount but Robbard shook his head. "He's dead."

"You're sure?"

"He's cooling already."

"He was attacked and badly injured. He must have escaped, tried to get back to us, and died here," Landon added, getting to his feet. "It wasn't long ago. He's not stiff and the blood's still wet." Grist spent another minute on the ground with the body before he rose, his face set in hard lines.

"This changes things," he said. "We have to assume Ormond and his men know someone is searching for them. We can't continue on this road. From here, we go on foot through the forest."

"What about the horses?" Amy asked.

"We'll have to leave them here. Remove the saddles and bridles. We'll hide them in the undergrowth, along with the body." Grist turned back to the corpse, crouching down again. He stood a second later, holding a sword. "It seems we have a weapon for you after all, Master Williams."


	35. The Doctor

It didn't take long for the Doctor to decide he really hated the chair he was trapped in. The seat was hard and the arms splintery. The straps which secured him in place were tight and had rough edges; each time he moved they scraped his skin. There also seemed to be a draft coming from up above him, blowing chilly air over him. His musings on how hateful the chair was were, unfortunately, soon interrupted by the approach of Anne's father. The man rubbed his hands together gleefully, clearly looking forward to what he was about to do.

He started out by poking and prodding, finding all the Doctor's sore spots. When he tired of that he moved on to the brands. They weren't, he explained, designed for tagging a victim. Instead the different tips gave him the option of deciding how much flesh he wanted to burn at a time. He started with a small one, leaving cigarette-end-sized burns across the Doctor's torso. The Doctor tried to keep still, but it was impossible to remain immobile when someone was approaching with a hot brand. He flinched instinctively, and the skin on his wrists, ankles, and neck quickly became raw from rubbing against the straps.

As the pain increased it drowned out the Doctor's other senses. He lost his awareness of the passage of time and his vision went grey. Not being able to see wasn't all bad; it meant he was no longer flinching in anticipation and scraping against the straps. This became boring for his tormenters, but Anne's father had had a solution. He and his black-clad assistant, a man called Moore, doused the Doctor with a bucket of cold water. He was soaked and shivering now, but his vision was clearing. His throat was raw and he realized he must have been screaming at some point. He knew Anne had cried out a few times too. As things came back in to focus he spotted her in a corner of the room. She was quiet now but tears were still coursing down her face. Her brother had his arms around her and seemed to be half-restraining and half-supporting her.

"You can put a stop to this, Anne," her father said, crossing the room to her. He reached out to wipe a tear from her cheek and she tried to pull away from his touch. He caught her chin in his hand and the Doctor could hear the smile in his voice. "You know what you need to do."

"You're a monster," Anne answered, her voice sounding rough.

"I'm a monster?" countered her father. "You're the one standing by while this man burns and bleeds for you. It's in your power to stop it – to save him – all you have to do is sign…"

"No." She shook her head. "I will not." Her father sighed, tsking at her.

"You choose stubbornness over compassion. If I'm a monster, what does that make you?"

"I choose to protect my son and my king," Anne retorted.

"Hmph," scoffed her father. "We both know Arthur will never be king. He'll never make it to the throne. Even if by some miracle he did, he would never be able to hold it."

"You don't know that…"

"Stop fooling yourself!" snapped her father. "He has a withered leg. He'll never stand tall before his court, never sit a horse. The people of this nation won't accept a king who can't lead his men into battle." Anne shook her head and he pressed on. "You know this. It's why you've kept him from court."

"I've kept him from court to keep him safe…"

Anne's father cut her off. "His courtiers would turn on him and stake their own claims to the throne. If he survived their challenges, that still wouldn't be an end of it. Word of his deformity would spread, and Umbria's rivals would be quick to challenge him. Even now there are rumblings from Iberia and Gauline. Both the Emperor and King Francis believe we're vulnerable now that Henry is gone."

"Of course you haven't used your connections to encourage those rumblings," Anne said bitterly. The Doctor thought she would have shaken her head in disgust if not for her father still having hold of her chin.

"But that… that would be treason!" Geoff protested. "You… you wouldn't…"

"Be quiet, Geoff," his father snarled. "I'm talking with your sister."

"We're done talking," Anne retorted. "It doesn't matter what you say. I'm not going to change my mind. I will never hand my son over to you."

"Very well." Her father turned away, nodding toward his assistant. "Get the next set of brands ready, Moore," he said. "Perhaps you can reason with her, Doctor."

"She's doing the right thing," the Doctor answered hoarsely. He smiled as Anne's father glowered.

"Very well – it won't take long for the brands to be ready and then we'll see if you still feel that way." He turned away, pacing across the room. The Doctor shifted his gaze to Anne. She was watching him, her face full of concern and guilt. He gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

A few minutes passed in relative silence. The only sounds in the basement came from Anne's father's boots on the stone floor and the crackling of the fire in the brazier. The Doctor tried not to think about what was in the fire, and what was coming. He wanted to think of some clever way to get himself and Anne out of danger, but he couldn't seem to get his brain working. He did his best thinking out-loud, preferably while moving. He could do neither here.

Anne's father stopped his pacing as the sound of footsteps on the stairs reached them. A second later one of the royal guards entered the room. The Doctor thought he recognized the man called Trock. He was almost swaggering as he approached Anne's father.

"Well?" demanded the older man. "Did you find him?"

"No," Trock answered.

"Then what are you doing here?" asked Geoff. Trock ignored him, continuing to address Anne's father.

"There was no point to continuing the search. The man was severely wounded in our encounter. He couldn't possibly have made it very far. He must be dead by now."

"Then find me the corpse," snapped Anne's father. "I would know who these men are serving. Someone is out there, hunting for us."

"I'm telling you, continuing to search is pointless," Trock retorted. "There's nothing a corpse can tell you!" For a moment the two men glared at one another. Finally the older man made a disgusted noise and waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. Trock didn't move. He glanced at the Doctor, his lip curling in a sneer.

"Has she yielded yet?" he asked.

"She will," Anne's father replied. "Go back upstairs and keep watch. If that man did reach his friends…"

"I tell you it's not possible…"

"And I'm telling you to follow my instructions!" snapped Anne's father. "You weren't hired for your brains, Lord Trock. Stop trying to think and do what you're told."

"If you're so concerned about being found then stop wasting time with all these… theatrics," Trock retorted, waving his hand toward the Doctor. "Hand her over to me and my men. We'll get her to sign whatever you want in no time."

"No!" Geoff protested, moving to put himself between Anne and Trock. "You will not touch my sister."

"That's enough, Geoff," replied his father. "Pipe down."

"But he…"

"I said pipe down! Your sister's going nowhere at the moment."

"Remember the terms of my employment, Ormond – your promise to me," Trock said.

"Once my daughter has signed the document, you'll have your opportunity."

"What opportunity?" demanded Geoff. Trock glanced at him and smiled.

"I've never bedded a queen before…" he began, sounding amused. He was cut off when Geoff lunged, sliding past his father to land a punch on Trock's jaw. The guard staggered back, one hand going to his chin.

"You little…" He snarled, reaching for his sword. Geoff was already drawing his, ignoring commands from his father to stop. They lashed out at each other and Ormond leapt back. The Doctor cringed as their blades connected, the ringing echoing around the room. The slashed at each other again and again they struck blade on blade. Ormond was shouting at them both to stop but neither man paid him any heed. The noise and commotion were making the Doctor's head throb. After a moment Ormond tired of shouting and turned, snarling at Moore. The giant hurried over to stand beside him. They both watched the combatants, their backs to the Doctor. They were blocking most of his view of the fight but he could hear the clashing of the swords and the grunts of the men as they lunged and swung at each other. Moore and Ormond took cautious steps forward, trying to stop the fighting without getting hit by a sword in the process.

The Doctor was so engrossed by the action he failed to notice Anne's approach. He started when her hand landed on his arm.

"Ssh," she whispered, moving behind the chair. A second later the strap around his neck released. His head lolled at the sudden lack of support and he lifted it with difficulty. Anne moved on to his wrists.

"You… you need to get out of here," he told her, peering around her to monitor the fight. Moore was trying to work his way behind Trock, while Geoff continued his attack, ignoring his father's shouts for him to stop.

"Not without you," Anne answered, moving to his ankles. He felt the first strap go quickly, but the second was obviously stuck. It scraped his already-raw flesh as Anne struggled to work it loose and the Doctor bit back a yelp of pain. He could feel his hearts racing, making the pounding in his head increase. They were running out of time. Moore had managed to sidle around behind Trock at last and was preparing to catch hold of him. Ormond was trying to do the same with Geoff. The two combatants were growing tired; their blades connecting with less force and their grunting turning to panting. It wouldn't be long before they'd be restrained and then Ormond and Moore would realize what Anne was attempting. The Doctor had no doubt all four men would unite to prevent escape.

"Just go," he hissed at Anne. "You'll never make it out of here if you're trying to drag me along."

"If I leave you, he'll kill you," she answered. "I'm not going to let that happen."

"I'm not that easy to kill," the Doctor told her. "Trust me." She ignored him, continuing to work.

"Got it!" The strap finally came loose and Anne rose, reaching for his good arm. "No more arguing – we're both getting out of here." She drew his arm over her shoulders, helping him stand from the chair. For a moment he was fine, and then his vision turned to static.

"I… I can't," he whispered, feeling his knees start to buckle. Anne slipped an arm around his waist, careful not to touch the burns, but the additional support wasn't enough. He was going down and he was dragging her with him.


	36. Anne

Standing by and watching her father torment the Doctor was the hardest thing Anne had ever done. She tried to remain composed, but she hadn't been able to stop from crying out the first time her father pressed a brand against the Doctor's chest. By the time he stopped she was weeping, fighting nausea, and leaning on Geoff for support. She was ashamed of her reaction; nothing had been done to her yet she was ready to collapse. _Pull yourself together!_ she chided herself. _The Doctor's the one being burnt and he's more composed than you are._

Her father had turned to her while Moore put a new set of brands into the fire on the brazier. Anne lifted her chin, trying to project defiance. She couldn't let him see how close he'd come to breaking her will. He'd pressed her to yield and she'd refused, focusing on her anger with him and her love for Arthur. She couldn't let a man like this have any power over her child, no matter what he was threatening.

"We're done talking," she told him. "It doesn't matter what you say. I'm not going to change my mind. I will never hand my son over to you." Her father glared at her, his hand clenching into a fist. For a moment she thought he would strike her but he turned away instead, nodding toward Moore.

"Very well. Get the next set of brands ready, Moore," he said, moving toward the chair. "Perhaps you can reason with her, Doctor."

"She's doing the right thing," replied the Doctor. His voice was rough but there was a glint in his eyes when he smiled at her father. Anne felt a surge of humility at the sight; despite being bloody and battered, he was staying firm. She blinked back tears, overwhelmed by gratitude and shame.

"Very well – it won't take long for the brands to be ready and then we'll see if you still feel that way," her father said. He turned away, beginning to pace. His face was a mask of anger. Anne looked away from him to find the Doctor watching her. He smiled at her and she blinked back more  tears.

The thud of steps on the stairs disrupted the quiet of the room. Trock strutted into the room, smirking when he caught sight of Anne. She glared at him, watching warily. He stepped up to her father, who looked less than pleased to see him.

"Well?" he demanded. "Did you find him?"

"No," Trock answered, sounding unconcerned. Anne could feel Geoff's tension increasing. He didn't like Trock to begin with and now the man was bordering on contemptuous in his address of their father.

"Then what are you doing here?" he asked. Trock ignored him, keeping his attention on Anne's father. The two men continued to argue about the need to find the man for a few minutes but Anne tuned out their words. She watched their body language, trying to judge if they were going to come to blows. If the men began to fight, she might have an opportunity to get to the Doctor. She could see he was watching them closely too.

It wasn't until Geoff's grip on her tightened that she realized she was now the subject of discussion. Trock was looking at her, his expression half-leer and half-sneer. She fought back a shudder.

"Hand her over to me and my men," he was saying. "We'll get her to sign whatever you want in no time."

"No!" Geoff moved, releasing Anne as he stepped in front of her, attempting to shield her from Trock's view. "You will not touch my sister." Anne was startled by his vehemence.

"That's enough, Geoff. Pipe down," chided their father.

"But he…"

"I said pipe down!" the older man snapped. "Your sister's going nowhere at the moment."

"Remember the terms of my employment, Ormond – your promise to me."

"Once my daughter has signed the document, you'll have your opportunity," her father replied calmly.

"What opportunity?" Geoff asked, his voice rising in pitch. Trock turned his gaze to him, smiling contemptuously.

"I've never bedded a queen before…" he began. Geoff sprang forward, slipping past their father to punch Trock. He hit the man in his jaw, sending him staggering back with one hand on his chin. Anne couldn't keep back a smile of satisfaction when she saw his mouth was bleeding.

"You little…" Trock reached for his sword. Geoff drew his as well, lashing out at the other man as his father shouted for him to stop. He leapt back to avoid being struck as the two men fought, their swords clanging together. The sound echoed through the room and Anne expected the rest of the men to join them soon. Her father continued to shout at the combatants. He turned to Moore, who was waiting behind the Doctor's chair, and motioned for him to join him. The two men studied the fighters, trying to figure out how to intervene without getting hurt themselves.

When none of the other guards appeared, Anne ran to the chair. She wasn't sure how she would get the Doctor past the fighters or the men upstairs but she was determined to try. Her hopes for rescue had been pinned on Mattias' companions being close by, but if his compatriot had died before reaching them, they wouldn't know where to look for her. Maggie might find them, but she was heading for the camp in the crater.

The Doctor was watching the fight so closely she didn't think he saw her approach. Up close she could see his wrists and ankles were rubbed raw from the straps on the chair. She laid a hand on his arm to alert him to her presence before moving behind the chair to undo the strap around his neck.

"Ssh," she cautioned. The band came loose and she moved to his wrists, working on those straps..

"You… you need to get out of here," the Doctor whispered. Anne shook her head as she moved to free his ankles.

"Not without you." The first strap came of easily but the buckle on the second was stiff and she struggled to undo it. She could feel her heart racing and her hands were shaking, making her task more difficult. The strap scraped across the Doctor's sore skin as she worked, making him hiss in pain. Behind her she could hear the fighting slowing, the blades ringing together less frequently. Geoff and Trock were panting and she knew it wouldn't be long before her father and Moore were able to restrain them. There was no time to lose if she was going to get the Doctor out of there.

"Just go," the Doctor muttered. "You'll never make it out of here if you're trying to drag me along."

"If I leave you, he'll kill you. I'm not going to let that happen."

"I'm not that easy to kill," he insisted. "Trust me." Anne ignored him, continuing to fight with the buckle. At last it moved, allowing her to pull the strap free.

"Got it!" she gasped, springing to her feet and reaching for the Doctor's good arm. "No more arguing – we're both getting out of here." She shifted, bending her knees as she pulled his arm across her shoulders. She rose, bringing upright with her. For a moment he was balanced and then she felt him sag.

"I… I can't," he gasped. Anne put her arm around his waist, trying to give him more support, but it was no good. His knees buckled and his full weight landed on her, pushing her off balance. She felt herself start to fall and tried to catch herself with her free arm. She hit the ground hard, sending pain shooting up her arm to her shoulder, and then her head connected with the stone floor, dazing her.

The next thing Anne was aware of was of a weight pressing her to the ground. The Doctor, she thought. We've fallen. A moment later the weight eased and she realized someone was pulling the Doctor off of her. She reached out, wanting to catch him, and a hand caught her arm. She was hauled up into a seated position and brought face to face with her father's furious visage.

"Idiot child," he hissed, yanking her up to her feet as he stood. "Just what did you think you'd do once you got upstairs? Take on the other two men yourself?"

"Why do you care?" Anne asked, trying to pull away from him. "You're planning to hand me over to them anyway." She heard Geoff hiss in a breath behind her father.

"You… you wouldn't," he protested, stepping into view. "Father…"

"Of course I wouldn't," her father snapped.

"But Trock…"

"I never intended to let him near her. Once we'd gotten what we wanted, I would have dealt with him. Your sister is far too valuable to be given to some lowly guard."

"Of course," Anne said, trying not to shudder. "He had nothing of value to offer you."

"Of course," her father echoed mockingly. Geoff stared at him, looking horrified.

"What are you saying, Father?" he asked. "You're not… not really going to… sell Annie."

"Be quiet, Geoff," her father snarled.

"But… she's your daughter…"

"I told you to shut up!" snapped their father. "Come and hold your sister. Moore, dispose of that… mess." He gestured over his shoulder and Anne caught sight of Trock's bloody body near the doorway. She sucked in a breath and looked away, feeling sick. Geoff stepped over to her, taking hold of her arm. Her father leaned down to haul up the Doctor, setting him roughly into the chair. He crouched down so their faces were level, reaching out to slap him when the Doctor's head lolled. The Doctor moaned and her father slapped him again.

"Stop it!" Anne cried, trying to pull away from her brother.

"I've had enough of your nonsense, Annie," her father growled, looking up at her. "It's time you decided. Does this man live or does he die?" He flicked his wrist, releasing the dagger he kept in his sleeve. It slipped into his hand.

"This is wrong," Geoff murmured softly, his grip loosening on Anne's arm. She stayed still, hoping he wouldn't realize what he'd done. If he loosened just a little more, she could pull free.

"For the last time, Geoff, be quiet!" Their father rose, reaching out to catch hold of the Doctor's hair. He tilted the man's head back, exposing his throat. She could see the Doctor's pulse beating in his throat. The scrapes from the strap and the cut from Geoff's knife stood out in stark contrast to the pale flesh. "What's your choice, Anne?" demanded her father, his eyes gleaming. Anne stared at him, feeling her heart thudding. He looked almost feral and she had no doubt he would go through with his threat. She had to stop him, no matter what it took.

"I… I'll sign," she whispered, letting her shoulders slump. "Just… let him go."

"No! Annie, you can't!" Geoff protested. He let go of her arm and she sprang forward, intending to push her father away from the Doctor. Everything happened very quickly. Her hands hit her father's chest and she heard someone crying out, shouting _No!_ Then she felt a pain in her side so intense it took her breath away. She staggered back, struggling for air. She felt something warm and wet against her abdomen. When she looked down she saw a red stain spreading across her bodice. At its center was the hilt of her father's knife. She stared for a second before her knees buckled.

"You stupid little…" Her father's contemptuous remark was cut off as Geoff lunged at him. Anne saw them out of the corner of her eye as she slumped, coming to land in the Doctor's lap. He caught hold of her, drawing her closer, and she could see he was crying.

"Anne," he whispered, looking horrified. "What did you do?"


	37. Amy

Amy was rapidly concluding forests were nicer to look at than to walk through. There were low branches to dodge, undergrowth which snagged her feet, and somehow, despite following behind several men, she kept finding spider-webs, usually with her face. She was carrying the med case now that Rory had the sword, and when its shoulder strap wasn't getting caught on something the case itself was banging against her hip as she moved. It seemed like they'd been walking for quite some time and she hoped there wasn't much further to go.

She'd been surprised when Grist offered Rory the dead man's sword, and even more surprised when Rory took it without hesitation. The sword was in a scabbard on a belt and Rory had slipped the belt around the outside of his jacket with practiced ease before moving to retrieve the med kit from his horse's saddle-bags. He'd passed it to Amy without comment, turning away before she'd even slipped the shoulder-strap over her head. He'd been ahead of her on their walk so she hadn't been able to see his face and, much as she longed to pull him aside and talk to him, this wasn't the time or the place.

Amy was so lost in her thoughts she failed to notice Grist signaling the group to stop. She nearly walked in to Rory, coming to a stumbling stop when she realized he wasn't moving. He glanced back at her, his expression unreadable, before looking ahead once more. She studied the back of his neck, feeling a little concerned. He seemed almost… coiled, like a spring – all tension and compressed energy. She didn't know if she should be worried for him or not. Something had happened on the ride around the woods' edge. Rory had turned pale and hadn't seemed aware of where he was for a few minutes. He'd insisted he was fine when she questioned him, but he spent the rest of the ride with Grist. _And then Grist handed him a sword…_

"Amy." Maggie's quiet murmur disrupted her thoughts, bringing her back to the present. Grist had returned and was waving the group forward into a circle. She moved after Rory, who was already several steps ahead, and Maggie followed her.

"The manor is just ahead," Grist murmured once they were all assembled. "Unfortunately we're approaching the gardens. We're going to have to circle around. We need to find a less-exposed approach to the house and we also need to see if Ormond has any guards stationed."

"If we find a way in…" began Robbard.

Grist shook his head. "Just reconnoiter for now. We need to get a better idea of what we're facing before we try to go in." The men nodded, a few of them looking frustrated. Amy shared the feeling.

"We need to hurry," she protested. "The Doctor…"

"We have to do this right," Rory said quietly. "If we're not careful we could get the Doctor and the queen killed."

"We'll meet on the opposite side of the house," Grist told the group. "I'll take Blane, Master Williams, Mistress Pond and Mistress Fragin south. Robbard, Ortel – you go with Landon to the north. Be careful – you'll have to cross the drive up to the house at some point." Amy didn't miss the look of disappointment on Maggie's face when she realized she wouldn't be going with Landon. Everyone nodded and began to separate.

Grist led their party with Rory just behind him. Amy came next, with Maggie on her heels and Blane bringing up the rear. Amy watched Rory again as they walked. His hand hovered near the handle of his sword and she realized with a start he was moving much like Grist. His steps were sure and his head moved slightly as he scanned his surroundings. Somehow her adorable, bumbling husband had transformed into a confident, capable soldier. She felt strange watching him; he didn't seem like her Rory at all. Then his foot caught on something and he pitched forward into Grist, shattering the illusion. Amy fought back a giggle as she moved to help them. _Nope. Definitely still Rory._

It didn't take them long to complete their half-circuit of the house. Amy hoped the other team had better luck; they hadn't seen any signs of guards but they also hadn't found any place where the woods came close to the house. The old duke had apparently liked manicured lawns because his home seemed to be surrounded by them. If they couldn't find a way to sneak up to the house, would Grist insist on waiting for darkness? Could the Doctor and the queen wait that long?

When they reached the rendezvous point they found Ortel waiting for them.

"There's a side-door just ahead," he whispered as they reached him. "It's close to the forest and there don't appear to be any guards. Landon and Robbard are waiting there." He turned, and they started after him, moving quickly. Amy could feel her heart start to race and Rory's neck was flushed. His hand was on his sword-handle once more, gripping tightly. Even Grist seemed keyed-up and excited.

Landon and Robbard were waiting near the edge of the forest. Amy could see past them to a small strip of lawn and what appeared to be the side of the house. The bottom half of the house was made of stone, with stucco and half-timbering on the first floor. A fire place jutted out from the house and the door was beside it.

"That's the kitchen," Maggie whispered, confirming Amy's suspicions.

"Do you know the layout of the house?" Grist asked and Maggie nodded.

"This is the kitchen entrance. From the kitchen you can go through a pantry into the great hall, or into a smaller dining room for the family," she explained. "I can show you." Grist frowned but Landon spoke up.

"You're very brave, Mistress Fragin." Maggie blushed and beamed.

"Alright," Grist murmured, cutting them off. "Landon, Robbard – you go first. Signal us when it's clear." The two young men nodded and darted out, moving swiftly across the narrow lawn and into the house. A few minutes later Landon poked his head out the door and waved them over. They all ran, filing quickly into the house.

The kitchen was large but dark. There was no fire in the hearth, not even any glowing coals. Everywhere Amy looked she saw signs of people leaving in haste. There were a pile of potatoes sitting beside a basin on one counter but only half of them were peeled. A chunk of meat rested on a nearby block half-chopped, and on a small trestle table near the center of the room sat a pot of some kind of broth. The faint scent of souring herbs reached her when she took a step toward it and she wrinkled her nose.

The house was absolutely silent and Amy wondered if they were in the wrong place. What if Ormond had taken the Doctor somewhere else? She watched nervously as Grist waved Maggie forward. The young woman pointed toward a door and he nodded, waving Landon and Robbard toward it. The two men moved quietly, sliding their boots along the stone floor. They'd drawn their swords at some point, as had Grist, Blane, and Ortel. Rory's hand was on the handle of his but it was still in the scabbard. Amy put a hand on the med kit, moving it around to the front of her so she could make sure it didn't bump in to anything.

The pantry door opened a moment later and this time Robbard spoke.

"Master Williams!" he hissed. "We need you." Rory stepped forward and Amy went with him. Grist started to protest and she waved toward the med kit without stopping. He sighed and came with her. They passed through a small pantry and out into an alcove. A doorway to their left led to a set of stairs going down. The grand hall of the manor house was straight ahead and they followed Robbard across it, moving past trestle tables and mangy stuffed animals. Amy frowned at the scenes depicted on some of the tapestries on the wall; they weren't the sort of thing she'd want to look at while eating.

A man was on the floor half-way across the room, lying between two of the tables. Amy grimaced at the sight of him. One of his arms was half-off and his head was badly bashed. Rory knelt beside him and shook his head. She shuddered and looked away from the gory figure.

"Where is everyone else?" Grist asked softly.

"We've seen no one else down here," Landon murmured. "Perhaps they're hiding upstairs." He nodded toward an ornate staircase at the opposite end of the hall from the pantry and the three men started toward it. Grist looked over his shoulder to tell Amy and Rory to stay where they were. Rory got to his feet and Amy turned her gaze back toward the alcove. Movement caught her eye and she froze, her eyes going wide as she realized a man was stepping out from behind one of the hunting trophies. She recognized the gray and black uniform of the royal guards and realized this must be one of the men who'd betrayed the queen.

"Rory, look out!" she cried as the man dashed forward. He sprang across the table in front of him, charging toward her husband. She expected Rory to retreat but instead he drew his sword and stepped forward to meet the attack. The man slashed at him with his blade and Rory parried the blow with his, the sound of metal-on-metal echoing in the hall. The men drew back, feinting and lunging, blades lashing out again. Amy retreated, bumping into the other table as she watched. She was half-horrified and half-amazed at what Rory was doing. It hardly seemed possible for this to be the same man who'd lashed ineffectually at a vampire-fish-man with a broom.

There was more movement in the corner of her eye and Amy yelped as a second man appeared from behind her. She took a step back as Grist charged up to meet the newcomer, his blade flashing as he lashed out. Landon and Robbard were right behind him and when she looked back to Rory she saw Blane and Ortel joining him. The six men faced down the other two, quickly subduing them. Rory stepped away as Blane and Ortel seized his attacker. He was breathing heavily but appeared unharmed. Amy rushed forward to embrace him, forgetting about the med kit, and he yelped as the metal case banged into him.

"Sorry!" she gasped, drawing back. "Are you…"

"Yes," Rory squeaked, doubling over in pain. "Just… give me a moment." Amy shifted the case to her hip and reached out to help him over to one of the benches, sitting down beside him. Landon, Blane, Robbard, and Ortel were securing the prisoners, using strips torn from one of the tapestries (a particularly vile one, Amy noted) to tie their hands and feet. Grist glowered at them, moving to stand over them once they were secured.

"Where is the queen?" he demanded.

"You're too late," replied one of the men. "She's gone."

"Gone where? Where are the Ormonds, and the rest of your party?"

"Dead, mostly," answered the man, his lip curling. "We left Fitts behind yesterday, and Trock is down in the basement. Geoff Ormond did for him."

"You've seen Geoff," added the other man. " _We_ did for him."

"Where did Ormond take the queen?" Grist asked, crouching down and catching at one of the men's shirt-fronts. His face was red and Amy could see a vein throbbing near his temple.

"He didn't take her anywhere," the first man said, his eyes shining. "She's here." Grist drew back his hand, ready to strike and the second man sighed.

"She's in the dungeons below," he announced, "along with her friend." Amy didn't wait to hear more. She ran for the stairs she'd spotted in the alcove, with Rory close on her heels.


	38. Rory

Rory sank onto one of the benches in the great hall of the Ostem Manor House, struggling to get his breathing back under control. His arms ached from swinging his sword, and more from crashing it into the sword of the other man. He tried to focus on those pains and ignore the throbbing agony coming from his groin. Amy had hit him very solidly with the med kit case and it had been all he could do to get to the bench in the first place.

Amy was sitting beside him, one hand on his arm. Her attention was riveted on the center of the room, where Grist's men were tying up the two men they'd captured. One of the men was grinning maniacally while the other seemed weary. Landon and Robbard sat them down, watching them closely, while Blane and Ortel moved out from the group, swords at the ready as they scanned the room for any sign of anyone else. Maggie was waiting in the alcove, watching the scene with wide-eyes.

"Where is the queen?" Grist asked, stepping toward the captured men.

"You're too late. She's gone," said the maniacal man. There was something about the way he smiled that made Rory certain he was lying.

"Gone where?" demanded Grist. "Where are the Ormonds, and the rest of your party?"

"Dead, mostly," answered the man, attempting to shrug despite his tied hands. "We left Fitts behind yesterday, and Trock is down in the basement. Geoff Ormond did for him."

"You've seen Geoff. _We_ did for him," put in the other man. Grist crouched down so he was eye-level with the men. He reached out to catch the front of the maniacal man's tunic.

"Where did Ormond take the queen?" His voice was low and menacing.

"He didn't take her anywhere. She's here," replied the man, unfazed by Grist's proximity. He didn't blink when Grist drew back a fist.

"She's in the dungeons below along with her friend," said the second man, sounding bored. Amy sprang to her feet and dashed toward the alcove.

"Amy, wait!" Rory called after her, getting stiffly to his feet to race after her. He knew she was only thinking of finding the Doctor, but they didn't know who else could be waiting in the dungeon. Of course she didn't stop, dashing past a startled Maggie and through a doorway in one side of the alcove. Rory plunged after her. He could hear running steps behind him and knew at least one of Grist's men wasn't far behind.

Amy stopped at the foot of the stairs and Rory nearly ran in to her. There was a man sprawled there; one look at his open, staring eyes told Rory he was dead. Amy stepped over him gingerly and Rory caught her arm.

"Wait," he hissed, keeping his voice low. He strained his ears but all he could hear was the sound of footsteps on the stairs behind. He turned to see Grist coming down and Amy pulled free, darting into a room. Rory turned and ran after her as she screamed.

"Rory!"

The room he entered was like something out of a horror movie, full of horrible-looking devices. Rory caught the briefest glimpses of them before his eyes zeroed in on Amy. She was in the center of the room, crouched down beside a wicked-looking chair. When she turned to look at him he saw the Doctor. He was on the ground in front of the chair. His shirt was gone and Rory could see marks dotting his torso – bruises and cuts and what looked like burns. There were raw marks on his wrists and another on his neck. The queen was in his lap and he was holding something against her side; Rory realized it was the remains of his shirt, and it was soaked with blood. He dashed forward, crouching down in front of them and the Doctor lifted his head. His face was pale and tear-streaked. He stared for a moment, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

"Doctor," Rory said, reaching out toward him. He stopped short of touching him; there didn't seem to be an unmarked spot on either of the Doctor's arms.

"You have to save her," the Doctor said. His voice was raspy and his lips were cracked. Rory could hear Grist approaching but he kept his eyes on the Doctor.

"What happened? Where's Ormond?" Grist demanded. He came to a stop, standing just behind Amy and Rory heard him suck in a breath. "Anne…"

"Save her," the Doctor repeated, not taking his eyes off Rory.

"Ok," Rory said. "Ok. Just… let me see…" He turned to study the queen, fighting back a gasp of his own. She was as pale as the Doctor, her breathing shallow and rapid. The shirt the Doctor had pressed to her side was blood-soaked and after a second's study, Rory saw why. The hilt of a knife was sticking out from the queen's side. He reached for her neck, checking her pulse even as he looked up at Amy. She didn't turn from her study of the Doctor when he said her name and he repeated it, making his tone a little sharper.

"Amy. I need the kit. Now." She turned toward him slowly, taking in the queen's condition for the first time. Her expression changed in an instant and she moved, shifting so she was beside Rory as she lifted the case's shoulder-strap over her head. She opened it and Rory reached for a med-scanner. Amy took out a second one, turning to the Doctor only to find Grist had stepped forward and was in her way.

"You need to give us some room," she told him, looking up at him. He took a step back, letting her get to the Doctor. Rory turned his attention back to the queen, attaching the scanner to her arm and waiting for the readings to come up. Amy was trying to find an unmarked spot on the Doctor to hook up the scanner she held. Grist continued to stand over them. Rory glanced up at him.

"Will… will she live?" Grist asked.

"I don't know yet," Rory admitted, looking back to the scanner. "I know you're worried, but having you stand over us isn't helping." When he turned to the case to find the cut-mender a minute later, Grist was gone.

Rory lost track of time as he worked over the queen. The knife had to be removed and the gash in her side repaired. At one point her heart stopped and he scrambled for one of the stimulant injections before starting CPR. Amy stayed with him, getting the tools and medicines when he asked for them. At some point the Doctor had slumped and she'd briefly panicked. A check of the Time Lord's scanner had revealed no life-threatening injuries. Amy had shifted him so he was lying down and turned back to helping Rory. At last they'd one all they could for the queen. The knife had been removed and the wound healed, her heart was pumping once more and she was breathing steadily. Rory sat back on his heels, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over him as his adrenalin faded.

After a moment he shook himself and moved to the Doctor, rechecking the scanner screen. The machines automatically adjusted to the biology of whoever they were attached to, not only providing numbers on the read-out but warnings if the patient's readings were too high or too low for their physiology. _It's like medicine for dummies_ , Rory thought, smirking a little. According to the Doctor's read-out, his blood pressure was slightly elevated (no doubt due to pain) and he was severely dehydrated. He was also shivering in the chilly dungeon.

"We need to get them out of here," Rory said, turning to Amy. "There must be beds in this house somewhere. I can treat the Doctor upstairs, where it's warmer."

"I'll go see if I can find Grist," she replied, getting to her feet. Rory turned to watch her walk away, relieved to see the corpse had been removed from the doorway. He'd been vaguely aware of men moving through the room, out the other door and further into the basement. He'd heard no commotion and assumed it meant they'd found the rooms empty.

He looked back to his patients, rechecking their scanners while he waited. Now that the emergency was over he had a chance to take in his surroundings. He looked around the room, wincing at what he saw. The queen's father had been serious about inflicting pain. The chair he was sitting beside had straps on it to hold a victim in place, and to judge from the raw skin on the Doctor's wrists, ankles, and neck, he'd be in it. There were brands and a brazier in one corner, a rack, another device Rory couldn't name, and a pillory. Various sized knives and other wicked-looking metal implements were hanging on the walls. Rory shuddered and looked back to the Doctor, studying the burns on his torso. _They used the brands_ , he thought, grimacing. His gaze shifted to the queen, taking in the stain on the bodice of her gown. _Sadistic bastard is too kind._ He felt his hands clenching into fists. What he wouldn't give to get his hands on the queen's father…

"Rory?" Amy spoke as she returned to the dungeon, bringing Rory back to the here and now. "Maggie's got two bedrooms ready upstairs." Landon and Blane were following her, their faces grim.

"Her Majesty's father is nowhere to be found," Landon reported, coming forward. Rory moved aside to let the other man get closer to the queen.

"The men we captured upstairs said he told them Geoff had killed Trock and was trying to kill him. They fought with Geoff and when it was over, they realized he was gone," Blane added, moving toward the Doctor. Rory rose, putting out a hand to stop him.

"Careful. I haven't treated his injuries yet," he cautioned. Blane nodded, pausing to study the Doctor before crouching down to lift him. Amy followed the two men out of the dungeon and Rory hastily gathered up the med kit before following them.

Upstairs the men parted, carrying the queen into one room and the Doctor into another across the hall. Amy started to turn after Blane but Rory put out a hand to stop her.

"I need you to sit with the queen, while I treat the Doctor," he said. She opened her mouth to protest and he shook his head. "She can't be left alone, Amy. Someone has to monitor her." Amy still looked unhappy but she nodded and turned toward the queen's bedroom. Rory went into the Doctor's.

The bedroom was small and dim. The bed sat opposite the door. Two tall, narrow windows provided little light. There was a fireplace in the left wall and a fire crackled there. A small lamp sat on a table by the bed and Rory reached out to adjust its flame so he could see better.

"Mistress Fragin was heating water in the kitchen," Blane told him. "I'll go see if she has any ready for you."

"Thank you," Rory replied. He set the med-kit on the edge of the bed and reached inside to collect the tools he wanted.

By the time Blane returned with a basin of steaming water, Rory had finished treating the Doctor's injuries. The tools in the med kit had made short work of everything, much to Rory's relief. The Doctor didn't stir as Rory got him cleaned up and into a night-shirt he'd found on the foot of the bed. He drew the covers around him and turned to go check on the queen. To his surprise, Grist was standing in the doorway, frowning at the Doctor.

"Her Majesty's across the hall," Rory told him. "Amy's with her."

"Will she recover?" Grist asked, continuing to glare. Rory cleared his throat and the man moved, letting him out into the hallway.

"She's lost a lot of blood," Rory answered. "I've done what I can…"

"But we have to wait and see."

"Yes."

"And what of your friend?"

"He needs to rest, but he should be fine," Rory replied, feeling butterflies forming in his stomach. Grist kept shooting glares toward the Doctor's doorway.

"He'll be fine," he muttered. Rory started to speak, to point out none of this was the Doctor's fault, but Grist was turning, stalking toward the stairs.


	39. The Doctor

The Doctor woke with a start. He knew something was very wrong, but he couldn't remember what it was. His body felt heavy, but he was not in pain. He still moved with caution, expecting the throbbing to return at any second. He was pleasantly surprised when it didn't. There were slight twinges - ghosts of greater pains - in his chest and arms but that was all. When he sat up there was no rush of pain to his head and he realized he was in a bed. He looked down at himself, frowning at the night-shirt he was wearing. _Definitely_ _not_ _cool-gear,_ he thought. He shook his head at himself and turned to look at his surroundings. He was in a small bedroom. There was a lamp burning low on the bedside table. A chair sat beside the table and it was occupied. The Doctor reached out to turn up the lamp and felt a surge of relief as he recognized Amy. He started to speak and realized she was asleep. She was curled up in the chair with the hem of her night-dress tucked over feet. Her hair was cascading over one shoulder, half hiding her face. In the flickering lamp light it looked like a curtain of fire. _It's more vibrant than Anne's_ , he thought, and then gasped as he realized what was wrong. _Anne!_ He remembered her lunging at her father, the man's knife flashing, her startled gasp as the blade struck. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and got to his feet, more memories returning. Rory and Amy had found them in the dungeon. The last thing the Doctor remembered was Rory reaching for something from the med-kit. _I need to find her_ , he thought, moving toward the doorway.

The hallway outside his room was lit by lamps, hanging at regular intervals. There were several closed doors on either side of the hall, but the one across from his was open and he could see firelight flickering inside. He made his way there, stopping to lean against the door-frame when he reached it. The room inside looked much like his own – a bed, table, chair, and small hearth. The lamp on the bedside table here was up enough to show him the room's occupants. Anne was in the bed, and he could see a med scanner attached to her arm. Rory was in the chair, asleep. The Doctor wanted to go in to see what the scanner showed, but his legs were beginning to tremble. He leaned more heavily on the door-jam, hoping the weakness would pass.

"What are you doing here?" demanded a voice behind him. The Doctor started and turned, keeping as much of his weight against the door-frame as he could as he turned. A man was standing in the hall mid-way between the two doorways. He had a sword at his waist but even had he come unarmed, the Doctor would have recognized him as a soldier at once. His bearing and attitude were unmistakably that of a soldier. _No_ , the Doctor corrected himself, _a general. He's too richly dressed to be part of the rank and file._ The man was wearing a quilted tunic, doublet, and high boots.

"I asked you a question," the man growled, bringing the Doctor out of his thoughts.

"I was looking for Anne…" he began, and the man's scowl deepened at his use of Anne's name. "The queen," he amended. "I'm the Doctor, by the way."

"You've found her," the man said, ignoring his introduction. "She's still unconscious."

"Yes, I saw that…"

"You seem fully recovered." There was accusation in the statement and the Doctor felt a surge of guilt.

"Yes," he answered, glancing over his shoulder at Anne. "I was… lucky." When he turned back, the man's hand was clenching into a fist.

"Lucky," he said bitterly. "How, exactly, did you get so lucky?"

"I… I don't know," the Doctor answered helplessly. His thoughts felt jumbled, more so than usual.

"Ormond took you to coerce Her Majesty into naming him Lord Protector. He wouldn't have harmed her until she agreed."

"He didn't intend to harm her…"

"Then what happened?" demanded the man, stepping closer. "How is it that you're standing here and she's lying there?"

"Her father had a knife," the Doctor replied slowly, struggling to bring the flashes of memory into focus. "I think he was threatening to cut my throat and she… she agreed to sign what he wanted. He let go of me and she… she lunged at him. I don't' think he knew what he was doing. He just… reacted and she… collapsed." The trembling in his legs increased and the Doctor sagged against the door-frame.

"She lunged at him. Why?" pressed the other man.

"I don't know," the Doctor answered. "To push him away?" The memories were still hazy. He could see the other man's hand clenching again but he didn't have the energy to cringe. The doorway to his room seemed miles away and he wasn't sure how much longer he could stand. Whether this man hit him or not, he was going to wind up on the floor in a few minutes.

"She pushed him away from you."

"Yes. I think so. It's… hazy."

"And then what?"

"She fell, and I caught her. Her brother… I think he attacked her father. I… I wasn't really watching." He hadn't been able to take his eyes of the queen. She'd been bleeding badly. With only one good arm he couldn't both hold her in the chair and press anything against her wound, so he'd slid to the floor, scarcely noticing the jolt of pain which shot up his spine when he landed. He'd managed to get the remains of his shirt off and had pressed it against the wound. The dungeon had quieted, until all he'd been able to hear was the sound of Anne's labored breathing. She'd been unconscious by then. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so helpless…

"Grist, have you seen… Doctor!" Amy's voice brought him back to the present. He started and nearly fell as he lost his balance. Grist reached out to catch his shoulder and Amy hurried to him. She stepped up beside him, slipping an arm around his waist to help hold him. "You're supposed to be in bed," she said, frowning at him. "What are you doing out here?"

"I wanted to see how Anne… the queen was," he answered, trying to divide his attention between's Amy's worried face and Grist's scowling one.

"You could have just asked me," Amy chided gently. She glanced at Grist, taking in his scowl, and her frown returned.

"You were asleep…" the Doctor began but it was too late. Amy was already bristling.

"What's going on out here?" she asked Grist.

"I was speaking with your… friend, about how the queen came to be hurt."

"Speaking or interrogating?" demanded Amy, tightening her arm around the Doctor's waist. "He's in no condition…"

"I'm fine, Amy," the Doctor said.

"No, you're not," she answered. "C'mon – let's get you back to bed before you fall over." She started forward and the Doctor moved with her. His head was feeling heavy and by the time they reached the bed, he was grateful to sink into it. Amy drew the covers up around him and he let his eyes close. He was dimly aware of the sound of voices nearby – Amy's familiar Scottish brogue and the clipped tones of the man from the hallway – but he couldn't seem to concentrate on what they were saying. There was something else wrong, something he was forgetting, someone who needed help… He sat up in the bed, startling both speakers.

"Doctor…" Amy began.

"Fragin," he said, feeling sick. "Anne said her father killed Luke…"

"We know," the man said, cutting him off. "We captured two of Ormond's men. They've confessed to everything."

"Maggie's father was still alive," Amy added, shooting a glare at the man. "They brought him back here and Rory took care of him. He's resting in a room downstairs. Maggie's with him. He's going to be fine."

"Ok." The Doctor sagged and she reached out to ease him back down. "Anne…"

"She lost a lot of blood…" began the man, coming to a stop when Amy elbowed him.

"She's resting," she said firmly, pulling the covers back up around the Doctor's shoulders. "You should be too." Her hands lingered over his arms for a moment before she turned to the other man.

"Mistress Pond…" he began. Amy shook her head.

"You. Outside. Now," she said, punctuating each word by poking the man in the chest. "Move it, Grist." She pushed at him and he backed away. She kept shoving him until they disappeared out the door. The Doctor's last thought before sleep claimed him was to hope she stopped before they reached the stairs.

When he woke up again, he was alone. He could see the room better this time, thanks to the light coming from windows on either side of the bed. The lamp was still burning low on the bedside table but it wasn't really needed anymore. He reached out to turn it down before sinking back into the bed. The twinges he'd felt the night before were gone. The only discomfort he felt came from his stomach, which felt absolutely hollow. He considered getting up and going in search of food, but though his limbs no longer felt leaden, he didn't trust his legs to carry him very far.

Voices sounded in the hall a few minutes later. He shifted on the bed, lifting his head as he listened. Amy's voice was one of them, and after a moment he realized she was talking with Rory. He smiled at the sound of them; they were debating something.

"Oi, you two!" he called, sitting up against the head-board. "Stop making that racket out there and get in here already!" A second later Rory appeared, his face split by a wide grin.

"Doctor!" he cried, moving briskly across the room. Amy came behind him, carrying a large tray. He caught a glimpse of some covered dishes, a teapot and some cups before Rory was in front of him, blocking his view. He reached for the Doctor's wrist, feeling for his pulses. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," he answered. Amy's face came in to view as she settled the tray on the bedside table, using its edge to slide the lamp back out of the way.

"You didn't look fine yesterday," she said reprovingly.

"Yes, well, I am now."

"Uh-huh." Rory released his wrist and sighed. "I know it's probably pointless to tell you this, but you should stay in bed today and get some more rest." The Doctor opened his mouth to protest, took in the shadows under Rory's eyes, and shut it.

"You both need to take it easy," Amy said, steering Rory toward the chair. She pushed him down and put a cup of what the Doctor assumed was tea into his hands before turning back to the tray. She prepared another cup and passed it to him before getting one of her own and moving to sit at the foot of the bed. For a few minutes they sipped their drinks – which tasted like a blend of coffee and tea – in silence. Amy had found a dress somewhere and the dark blue damask made a pleasing contrast with her bright hair. Rory had also gone native, mostly. His trainers didn't quite go with his dark trousers and tunic.

"So," the Doctor said at last, "you found each other."

"Yeah," Amy answered, shifting a little on the bed. She glanced at Rory, who nodded, before turning back to the Doctor. "I didn't make it to the TARDIS the first night," she began, going on to explain how she'd fallen and been rescued by Lord Grist. She'd spent the night at Stoketon Manor, and had an encounter with Prince Arthur the next morning. Rory took up the tale then, describing how he'd reached the TARDIS and got the kit, only to emerge and find Grist and Eckhart ready to fight. Amy stopped him at that point, getting up to refresh their cups and distribute food from the tray. Once they were all settled with a plate and fresh cup, his companions resumed their story. The Doctor smiled as Rory described the way Amy had convinced Grist to attempt a rescue of the queen, and breathed a sigh of relief to learn Fitts had survived. By the time Amy came to their arrival at the manor house, Rory was nodding in his chair. She retrieved his cup before he could drop it, putting it onto the tray.

"You should have seen him," she murmured, collecting the Doctor's dishes. "We were in the grand hall and this man came out of nowhere, swinging his sword. Rory… how could he know how to fight like that?" She dropped down next to the Doctor's hip, facing him.

"He was a Centurion, in one lifetime," he reminded her, glancing over at the young man.

"Yeah." Amy shook her head. "He was amazing."

"You should tell him."

"You think?" She watched her husband for a moment before turning to the Doctor and arching her brows. "What about you?"

"What about me?" asked the Doctor, looking away from her direct gaze.

"You and the queen," she said, nudging him gently. "You told the Fragins you were newly-weds."

"We were trying to escape," he protested, feeling his face warm.

"Fitts said she was very… protective of you. She refused to escape without you."

"She's a very… kind person," the Doctor answered, fidgeting as she continued to stare.

"And that's all."

"Of course." He looked up as a thought occurred to him. "What about this man, Grist?" he asked. "You said he was still in love with her."

"Oh, he is," Amy replied, getting to her feet. "He doesn't want to admit it, but it's pretty obvious."

"Then why…"

" _He's_ not my imaginary friend."


	40. Anne

Anne came awake slowly. First she became aware of sensations – the soft support of a feather-tick, the touch of a blanket on her chin, and the slight pressure of something fixed around her upper arm. Then she started to notice sounds – the crackle of a fire, floorboards creaking, and soft voices. Finally she became aware of light and she tried to open her eyes. Her lids felt glued shut and when she first managed to open them her vision was blurry. She blinked a few times and things gradually cleared, to reveal she was staring up at a ceiling. For a minute she was still, and then a flood of worries started. _Arthur…no, he's at Stoketon and there's no way Father could reach him…. Where's the Doctor? What have they done with him? Geoff - he was ready to attack Father – what happened?_ Her chest grew tight and she blinked back tears. A hand came to rest on her arm and she nearly screamed.

"It's alright. You're safe. You're ok," soothed a voice. A second later Master Williams' face appeared. He was smiling at her, trying to look reassuring, but she could see lines of strain around his eyes.

"Where… where am I?" Anne asked. Her mouth was dry, making speech difficult. Williams moved, reaching for a cup. He helped her lift her head and take a sip.

"You're safe," he repeated. "You're at the Ostem Manor House."

"The.. the Doctor…"

"He's in a room across the hall, hopefully sleeping," Williams answered. "He's going to be fine."

"I… my father… how…" It was hard to find the right words; she was tiring so quickly, just from speaking.

"He fled. Lord Grist took some of his party to search for any trace of him. He sent one man to Stoketon, to let Lord Eckhart know you'd been found. The others stayed here, standing guard." Anne breathed out a sigh, relieved at the news. There were more questions she wanted to ask but her eyelids were growing heavy. She let them shut and was asleep almost instantly.

The next thing Anne was aware of was the sound of voices nearby. A man and a woman were talking. He sounded exasperated and she was determined. Anne had a feeling they'd had many such conversations before. _A man and his wife_ , she thought drowsily. _Why are they arguing in my room?_

"… know we're going to be leaving in a few days, Amy, so what's the point?" asked the man, sounding impatient. _It's Master Williams_ , Anne thought. _Oh good – he's found his wife._

"She could come with us," the woman called Amy replied. She had an unusual accent, unlike any Anne had ever heard before.

"Come with us!"

"Why not? There's plenty of room in the TARDIS."

"She… she's a queen," Williams sputtered. "She has a son. She can't just… leave." _Wait – are they talking about me?_ Anne wanted to say something, but she couldn't seem to move her mouth, or open her eyes.

"Excuses," Amy scoffed. "Next you'll be saying he's nine-hundred-and-seven and the last of the Time Lords." _Nine-hundred-and-seven? I can't have heard that correctly._

"Well, he is."

"Oh… bollocks," came the reply.

"Why are you so determined to do this?" asked Williams.

"I just… he's lonely, ok? He runs around rescuing people, saving worlds, saving the whole universe, and he's got no one."

"He has us."

"It's not the same." The couple was silent for a moment and Anne waited. She was obviously the "she" under discussion, but who was the "he"? When the conversation resumed, the voices seemed farther away. Anne had to strain to hear them.

"What about Lord Grist?" asked Williams. "He's still in love with her."

"Then he should get in here and say so," retorted Amy, "instead of running all over the forest searching for her father."

"The Doctor's not in here."

"He's pretending to be asleep so he can avoid us."

"He's avoiding _you_ ," countered Williams. His voice was very faint now and Anne gave up, letting herself drift.

The next time Anne woke the light in her room had dimmed. It was still enough to allow her to see and she shifted on the bed, turning her head to take in her surroundings. There was a table beside her with a lamp on it, unlit for the moment. There were windows on either side of the headboard, a chair to her right and beyond it a fireplace. The chair was occupied by a young woman in a dark blue dress. She shifted, turning hazel eyes toward Anne and smiling as she flipped a section of her hair over her shoulder. _A fellow red-head_ , thought Anne. _Pretty shade too – brighter than mine._

"How are you feeling?" the woman asked, leaning forward in the chair. Her accent was familiar and Anne realized with a start this was the woman she'd heard speaking with Master Williams. _But… surely that was a dream_ , she thought. _No one could be nine-hundred-and-seven…_

"Your Majesty?" the woman was watching her in concern and Anne shook herself.

"I feel… weak," she answered. She wanted to sit up but her body felt heavy. She shifted on the bed so she was on her side and could see the other woman without turning her head. She knew she'd had dozens of questions the last time she woke, and only a few of them had been answered, but she couldn't seem to think of the others now. Bits of the conversation she'd overheard – the one she'd been sure was a dream - were running through her head.

"Are you hungry?" asked the woman. "I'm Amy, by the way – Rory… Master Williams' wife."

"Yes, I… I'm glad he found you," Anne replied, catching herself before she mentioned what she'd heard. She returned Amy's smile and they were both silent for a moment, studying one another. Finally Amy spoke.

"So…" she said. "Food? Drink?" When Anne hesitated she pressed on. "You need to have something."

"Alright," Anne consented. "Maybe some tea." She didn't feel particularly hungry but she didn't have the energy to argue. Amy nodded and got to her feet, going to speak to someone in the hall. She came back a few minutes later and resumed her perch in the chair.

"Tea will be right up," she announced. She shifted in the seat, her friendly expression turning speculative. "Rory said you were asking about the Doctor before."

"Yes," Anne replied warily. She shifted on the bed, preparing to sit up, and Amy came over to help her. She slipped a pillow behind Anne as she sat back against the headboard. Anne waited for her to move back before continuing. "He… he was put through a great deal on my account." She looked down, studying the simple night-gown she wore and picking at one of the cuffs.

"He was worried about you, too," Amy said and Anne looked up as the other woman dropped back into her chair. "When he first woke up he came straight over here." She shook her head, smiling fondly. "Of course, he wasn't supposed to be up and around yet. He was about to fall when I caught up to him."

"Is he alright now?"

"Yeah, he's fine. He's sleeping. I just checked on him not half-an-hour ago." Anne nodded. She was feeling a little more alert now and some of her earlier questions were coming back to her. She'd asked about her father, and learned of his escape, but what of her brother? She was about to ask Amy when her tea arrived. She was startled to see who was carrying the tray.

"Mr. Fitts!"

"M'lady," Fitts replied, his face flushing. Amy took the tray from him and he quickly dropped to one knee in a bow. Anne waved him back up.

"I am relieved to see you," she said. "When we left, you were under attack. I was afraid…" She let her voice trail off, not wanting to voice the thought.

"I survived, and thanks to Master Williams I am recovered," Fitts answered.

"He's another one who doesn't listen to directions," Amy put in drily, handing Anne a cup. "He was supposed to rest, not ride after us."

"I rested for a day," Fitts protested. "I felt well enough to ride this morning, and Mortan was impatient."

"Mortan?" Anne asked, recognizing the name of one of the royal guard. "Who else is here? Your husband mentioned Lord Grist."

"It's a long story," Amy said, "but basically Eckhart and Grist agreed to work together. Eckhart went to Stoketon to protect your son and Grist led a party to try to find you. Rory and I tagged along."

"Lord Grist has taken three of his men with him to search for… well, to search," Fitts explained. "Ortel was sent to Stoketon to let Eckhart know you're safe. I'm here, with Mortan, and the fourth member of Grist's party."

"What about my father's men? Did they all flee?"

"No, m'lady," Fitts replied, fidgeting a little and glancing at Amy. "Two men were captured – Dawson and Montague. They're locked in the cells below. Lord Trock was found dead…"

"He and Geoff fought," Anne murmured, shuddering as she remembered the way Trock had leered at her. "Where is Geoff?" she asked. "Is he here?" Amy fidgeted, glancing at Fitts, and Anne felt her hands start to shake. She knew those kinds of looks. The news wasn't good, and neither person wanted to be the one to share it. She set her teacup aside and folded her trembling hands in her lap, waiting.

"I'm sorry," Amy said at last. "We found him in the hall when we arrived. There… there wasn't anything we could do." Anne closed her eyes, fighting back tears.

"How?" she asked, opening her eyes and wiping away a few tears she wasn't able to stop.

"Montague and Dawson," Fitts said quickly. "Your… your father told them Geoff killed Trock, and was trying to kill him. They went after Geoff and your father fled."

"He tried to help me, in the end," she said quietly. "Typical Geoff – changing his mind at the last minute." The trembling in her hands was worse now and she felt herself starting to shiver. Amy retrieved her cup, turning back to the tea tray.

"Fitts, will you please get Rory?" she asked.

"Yes, of course," he said, hurrying away. Amy added more tea and sugar to Anne's cup before turning back to her. "Drink this," she ordered, holding the cup so Anne could comply.

By the time Master Williams arrived, Anne felt steadier. He came into the room quickly, carrying a silver case. He set it on the end of the bed and reached inside to pull out a strange device. Anne watched in fascination as he fitted a band around her arm and stared at the small box attached to it. It was lit from within somehow, and there were numbers and writing on it.

"What… what is that?" she asked.

"It's… it's a device, for telling me how you are," Williams answered, glancing at his wife. She shrugged and he continued. "These numbers tell me how fast your heart's beating, and if it's too fast or too slow. This one measures your breathing and… well, other stuff. And according to this, you're numbers are ok."

"And is this what healed me?"

"No - this just takes measurements. There are other… tools for healing." He unhooked the band from her arm and the light inside the box dimmed. "You need to eat something and get some more rest." He turned back to his case to put the box away and Anne waited until he was finished.

"How is it that you have all these… devices?" she asked.

"That's… complicated…" he began. Amy cut him off, ignoring the frown he aimed at her.

"He borrowed them from the Doctor," she said.

"That's enough, Pond," chided a voice. Anne looked past Amy to see the Doctor standing in the doorway.

"You're right," Amy answered him, tugging on her husband's arm. "You should do it. Come on, Rory." The Doctor looked startled and Amy started for the door, half-dragging Master Williams behind her. They slipped out into the hallway, leaving Anne and the Doctor alone.


	41. Amy

Amy hadn't wanted to tell the queen about her brother, but it was obvious Fitts was terrified to do it and Anne wasn't going to be distracted from the question. She tried to break the news gently, but the queen was trembling before she even spoke. Her trembles turned to shakes and Amy sent Fitts for Rory while she prepared a fresh cup of tea. She made it extra-sweet, hoping the sugar would help, and by the time Rory arrived Anne was steadier.

Rory had brought the med kit with him and Anne watched as he got out one of the scanners. It was obvious she was fascinated by the equipment and Amy wasn't surprised when she asked about it.

"What… what is that?"

"It's… it's a device, for telling me how you are," Rory said, glancing at Amy. She shrugged; she couldn't see the harm in answering the question. "These numbers tell me how fast your heart's beating, and if it's too fast or too slow. This one measures your breathing and… well, other stuff. And according to this, you're numbers are ok."

"And this is what healed me?" Anne asked.

"No – this one just takes measurements. There are other… tools for healing," Rory said, fumbling with the med-scanner band. "You need to eat something and get some more rest." He finally got the strap loose and turned to put the scanner away. The queen watched him and Amy waited, hoping Anne wasn't done with asking questions. Sure enough, once Rory had the scanner put away, she spoke up again.

"How is it that you have all these… devices?"

"That's… complicated…" Rory stammered. Amy sighed; he was going to try to dodge. "He borrowed them from the Doctor," she said, cutting him off. He frowned at her but she didn't care. This was the perfect opportunity to tell Anne a little about life in the TARDIS, maybe get her thinking about joining them. Then the Doctor could issue the invitation…

"That's enough, Pond." Amy started and turned to see the Doctor standing in the doorway, looking stern as he watched them. For a second she imagined he knew what she was thinking, but she quickly dismissed the thought.

"You're right. You should do it," she said. "Come on, Rory." She caught Rory's arm and tugged him toward the door, slipping past the now-startled Doctor and out into the hallway. She stopped a few steps from the door, unable to contain her triumphant smile. Rory looked at her and sighed.

"Amy…"

"Ssh! I want to hear this," she whispered, turning back toward the queen's room. The Doctor had moved out of the doorway and Amy slid along the wall toward it, straining to hear. They were talking, but they were too quiet for her to make out what they were saying. She needed to get closer. She moved until she was right by the doorway, turning her head to look through the crack between the door and the frame. The Doctor was in the chair she'd occupied, his face turned toward Anne so Amy just had a view of his jaw-line and the corner of one eye. She had a clear view of Anne's face and could see the queen was smiling.

"You seem much better," she was saying.

"Amy!" Rory's hiss was more insistent, and he accompanied it with a sharp tug on her arm. Amy missed the Doctor's reply, but she heard Anne saying she was tired. The Doctor started to stand but the queen waved him back to the chair.

"I'm not that tired. Please, don't go," she told him. He settled again, fidgeting a bit.

"Alright."

"You… you've never said your name. Your friends…

"Just call them Amy and Rory," he suggested. "It's easier."

"Very well. Amy and Rory call you the Doctor, but Mas… Rory, said you weren't a physician."

"That's true," the Doctor answered, shifting in the chair. "I'm… I'm a doctor of other things."

"Yet you carry the most amazing medical… tools."

"Yeah, well… they come in handy if someone I'm traveling with gets hurt."

"Does that happen often?" Anne asked. The Doctor looked away from her and Amy winced at the sorrow in his face.

"Sometimes," he said. "I…" His voice trailed off as he caught Amy's eye. "Excuse me," he murmured, getting to his feet. Amy took a step back as he approached the door, bumping in to Rory as she went.

"Doctor…" she began as he stepped into the hall.

"Just… stop," he said. Amy couldn't decide if he was angry, sad, or just tired.

"Stop what?" she asked. The Doctor shook his head.

"This isn't a game, Amy," he said. There was an edge to his voice now.

"I'm not playing games," she protested.

"You're playing match-maker," he retorted, "and you need to stop. This… it can't happen."

"Why not?" Amy demanded. Rory put a hand on her arm.

"Amy…"

"Why not?" she repeated, ignoring him. "You like her. She likes you."

"It's not… it's not that simple," the Doctor answered.

"She's smart, she's kind, she's brave," Amy continued, ticking off the qualities on her fingers.

"She's the queen," the Doctor countered.

"Yeah, so far that's worked out really well for her," Amy muttered, rolling her eyes.

"She has a son," he continued, ignoring her.

"I know. I've met him." The Doctor stared at her and she stared back. "I happen to know you like children," she said, "and he's a sweet little boy."

"The TARDIS is no place for children," the Doctor answered. The edge was gone from his voice now; he just sounded sad. Amy felt a pang; this was not what she'd wanted.

"You were going to take me, when I was seven," she said. She could feel her eyes burning and fought to keep from crying. "You promised."

"I know," he told her, stepping forward to catch her shoulders. "I wasn't lying."

"Right." Amy shrugged off his hands and folded her arms over her chest.

"I was going to take you on one trip," the Doctor said. "Just one. I thought… I thought I could keep you safe for one journey."

"You could keep Anne and Arthur safe too," she insisted. "I know you could."

"I don't," he replied, his shoulders slumping.

"Excuse me," came a voice, "but don't I get a say?" The Doctor turned and Amy could see Anne standing in the doorway of her room. She was swaying a little and Rory hurried to her, insisting she needed to go back to bed. He steered her back into the room and Amy started after them. The Doctor stayed where he was and she stopped beside him.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't mean… I just wanted to help."

"I know." He still didn't move and she held out her hand to him.

"Come on," she urged, waggling her fingers at him. After a second he reached out to take her hand. She gave him a gentle squeeze before they moved forward.

Anne was in the bed, sitting up against the headboard again. Rory was tucking the blankets around her waist. He turned as Amy and the Doctor entered and hurried over to shepherd the Doctor into the chair, leaving Amy standing midway between the bed and the door. The Doctor sank into the chair, looking miserable. Rory glanced at Amy, his expression anxious, before turning back to him.

"You really should go back to bed," he chided gently.

"I'm fine, Rory."

"You don't look fine," her husband countered, looking over his shoulder at the queen. "The pair of you need to get something to eat and go back to sleep."

"We will," Anne answered, keeping her gaze leveled at the Doctor, "but I don't think I could get to sleep just now. I have too many questions."

The Doctor sighed, pulling himself up a bit in the chair. "Where do you want to start?"

"You said you travel. Where do you go? And where are you from?"

"We travel in time and space," the Doctor answered. Amy waited for Anne to reject the idea but she only looked thoughtful.

"So you're not just from another country," she said. "You're from… another world?"

"Right. Amy and Rory are from a planet called Earth. It's quite similar to this one, actually."

"I must be mad, because that actually makes sense," Anne chuckled, looking between Rory and the Doctor. "You were so… different, the pair of you, and not just your clothes." The Doctor's hand stole to his neck and Amy smiled. She needed to tell him she had his bow-tie.

"Yeah, well," he murmured, fidgeting in the chair. Anne turned back to him, sobering.

"And what about you?" she asked. "I… I overheard something earlier today. The two of you were talking." She looked between Amy and Rory. "You said he was nine-hundred and seven and you called him something. A Time Lord? The last of the Time Lords." The Doctor turned to stare at Amy and she felt her face flush.

"She was supposed to be asleep," she told him.

"I thought I was dreaming. What does it mean?"

"I'm not from Earth," the Doctor replied, turning away from Amy and fidgeting in the chair. "I'm from… a different planet."

"And the people there are called Time Lords?"

"They were. Well, some of them were. We were all Gallifreyans, but only some of us were Time Lords."

"Were?"

"They're… they're all gone now. Hence, I'm the last." He shifted again in the chair and Amy knew he wanted to pace. The only thing keeping him was Rory, who was leaning against the bedside table and watching both his patients closely.

"Gone?" Anne asked. "How?"

The Doctor didn't answer immediately, and Amy took a half-step toward him. His face was still but his eyes were another story. There was so much feeling in them it almost hurt to see. She wanted to reach out to him but she wasn't sure he'd welcome it.

"There was a war," he said at last. "We lost."

"A war? Who wi…" Amy began, stopping when he looked at her sharply. She ducked her head, fighting back a surge of jealousy. He'd never told her this. She'd never gotten more than _Bad stuff happened_ out of him. _You never really asked though, did you?_ chided a voice in her head. When she looked up, Rory was watching her. She turned away from his knowing look.

"I'm sorry," Anne was saying. "I… I don't know what else to say."

"You don't have to say anything," the Doctor replied, getting to his feet and starting for the door. Amy stepped into his path.

"Where are you going?" she asked. He didn't answer her. Instead, he stepped to his left, trying to go around her. She moved into his path again. "You're running away, aren't you?"

"What if I am?" he countered, side-stepping again. He was quicker this time and managed to slip past Amy. She called after him.

"Is this what you do, Doctor? Run away anytime anyone gets close?" She stepped into the hallway, intending to issue another challenge, and came to a stop. Grist was standing there, glaring at the Doctor.


	42. Rory

Rory felt like he was watching an accident in progress and there was no way for him to stop it. It had started when the Doctor caught Amy eavesdropping. They'd quarreled and Anne had come to see what was happening. She was swaying a little and Rory had hastened to get her back to her bed. He'd been surprised when the Doctor and Amy had followed him. The queen had refused to go back to sleep; she'd been understandably curious about what she'd overheard. The Doctor had settled in the chair, apparently resigned to answering her questions.

Anne had started by asking about their travel, and Rory was surprised when the Doctor gave her a direct answer. He was even more surprised when she didn't reject the idea that he and Amy were from another planet. Unfortunately she'd overheard Amy and Rory talking about the Doctor earlier, when they'd thought she was asleep.

"You said he was nine-hundred and seven and you called him something. A Time Lord? The last of the Time Lords." The Doctor seemed to shrink a little in the chair.

"She was supposed to be asleep," Amy muttered.

"I thought I was dreaming. What does it mean?" Anne asked.

"I'm not from Earth. I'm from a… different planet," the Doctor replied, shifting in the chair.

"And the people there are called Time Lords?"

"They were," he said. "Well, some of them were. We were all Gallifreyans, but only some of us were Time Lords."

"Were?"

"They're… they're all gone now. Hence, I'm the last." The Doctor was fidgeting now and Rory could see lines of strain around his eyes. Amy had told him the Doctor was the last of his kind but she'd never said how. As much as Rory longed to find out the answer, this wasn't the way he wanted to hear it.

"Gone? How?" asked the queen.

The Doctor was still for a moment, his eyes staring off at nothing. Amy took a half-step toward him and Rory shifted, ready to push off the table he was leaning against. The Doctor seemed to be growing paler by the second. Rory wanted to put a stop to this conversation, to get Amy out of the room and get both his patients back to bed. They both needed to have something to eat and to get more rest, not dredge up what were clearly painful memories.

When the Doctor finally spoke his voice was very quiet. "There was a war. We lost," he said. Rory saw Amy's eyes go wide and he started. _She didn't know_ , he realized. _He never told her this part._ He stared at her, shaking his head slightly, willing her to stay quiet. Of course she didn't.

"A war?" she asked. "Who wi…" She stopped when the Doctor glanced at her, ducking her head. Rory frowned, feeling a surge of irritation. He understood she felt jealous, but now wasn't the time or place. Maybe he couldn't stop this conversation but he knew he needed to get Amy out of here now, before she made anything worse.

"I'm sorry," Anne said. "I… I don't know what else to say."

"You don't have to say anything." The Doctor got to his feet and turned toward the door. Amy stepped into his path and Rory shook his head. _Why can't she leave this alone?_

"Where are you going?" she demanded. The Doctor ignored her, stepping to his left in an effort to get around her. She moved with him, continuing to block his exit. Rory stood from the table, prepared to step in. "You're running away, aren't you?"

"What if I am?" asked the Doctor. He feinted one way and moved the other, slipping around Amy and moving for the hallway. She turned and called after him.

"Is this what you do, Doctor? Run away anytime anyone gets close?" For a second Rory was stunned; he couldn't believe what his wife had just said. He stared after her for a second, feeling his frustration turning to anger. He pushed off the table, barely noticing the way the tea-tray rattled as he moved. He could feel Anne watching him and he glanced at her as he went past.

"Stay… just stay in bed," he told her, struggling to keep his fury out of his voice. A part of him was stunned by his reaction; he'd never thought a day would come when he'd be protecting _the Doctor_ from _Amy_.

When he stepped into the hallway he found the Doctor flanked by Amy and Grist. Rory got one look at Grist's glowering face and felt something inside him snap. _Enough!_ he thought. He strode forward, elbowing Amy aside to step between the Doctor and Grist.

"You," he spat, "need to learn a new facial expression." He turned to Amy. "And you…"

"Rory…"

"No, Amy. I don't want to hear it! Can't you see what you're doing?"

"Master Will…"

"I'll be with you in a moment, Grist," Rory said, not turning away from Amy. Her face had gone from confused to angry. She folded her arms over her chest, scowling at him. Rory didn't look away and after a moment she huffed and spun on her heel, stalking off. He started to turn to the Doctor but Anne was already with him. They leaned on each other as they returned to her room. Rory made sure they seemed stable before looking back to Grist. The older man was frowning after Anne. Rory stepped into his line of sight, returning his angry look. He was vaguely aware of someone coming up the stairs to his right but he didn't turn away from Grist.

"Ma… Master Williams?" stammered Fitts. "Lord Grist?"

"Mr. Fitts…" Grist began. Rory cut him off.

"Mr. Fitts, will you please ask Maggie for some of her broth and take it in to the Doctor and Her Majesty? And then leave them to eat it in peace."

"Ye… yes," Fitts stammered, turning away. Rory waited until he was out of sight before speaking to Grist.

"You and I need to have a talk," he said.

"I think we do," Grist agreed. "Where?"

"Downstairs." Rory jerked a thumb toward the steps and Grist nodded. They turned together and made their way down to the grand hall. They didn't stop there; Rory kept moving across the musty room and out the manor's front door. He could see Amy standing near the drive up to the house and he turned away, leading Grist toward one of the side lawns. Now that they were away from the Doctor, he felt some of his temper fading. As his anger cooled, he felt trepidation building. Grist was a powerful man and he'd just called him outside. _Oh God – does he think we're going to fight?_ He swallowed a lump in his throat and stopped walking, turning to face the other man. He was relieved to see Grist's hands loose at his side instead of reaching for his sword.

"Well?" Grist demanded.

"The… the Doctor's not trying to… to take anything away from you," Rory stammered. "You… you need to… back off."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Grist folded his arms across his chest and looked over at the house, his jaw working.

"I'm talking about you looking like you want to kill him every time you see him with the queen," Rory answered. Grist didn't move and Rory pressed on. "Look, I… I've been where you are. I know…"

"You're going to tell me you know what I'm feeling," Grist asked, turning to him with an incredulous look on his face. "Really?"

"The night before Amy and I were supposed to get married, she ran off with… well, with someone else." Rory didn't think mentioning the someone else was the Doctor would be helpful just now, nor would including the bit about him popping out of the cake at the stag party to announce she'd kissed him either.

"And you took her back."

"It wasn't… she didn't run off with him because she was in love with him. She was just… scared."

"Scared, of you?"

"Scared of getting married, of growing up."

"Anne obviously wasn't scared of getting married," Grist snorted.

"Well, you don't really know that, do you? I mean, you've never asked her what happened." The two men fell silent for a moment before Grist shook his head, scowling at Rory.

"What… what does any of this have to do with the Doctor?" he asked.

"He's the one Amy ran away with," Rory admitted. "It's… it's a long story but she met him when she was seven and he was supposed to come straight back but something went wrong and it was actually twelve years and… anyway, like I said, long story."

"Uh-huh."

"The thing is, I was jealous of him for a very long time. But he wasn't… he never felt that way about Amy."

"And now the three of you travel together."

"Right, and we get along great!" Rory said, frowning as he thought about Amy sulking around the front of the house. "Most of the time."

"Is there a point to this conversation, Master Williams?" Grist asked acerbically.

"Yeah. There is actually. The point is, you obviously still care about Anne and you need to stop using the Doctor as an excuse not to talk to her."

"I don't need any excuse for not talking to her, not after what she did."

"Fine," Rory retorted, feeling irritation surging again. "Keep on stalking around and scowling if it suits you, just stay away from the Doctor while you're doing it. He's been through enough."

"He's not the one who was stabbed."

"No, he just had to watch while someone he liked nearly bled to death after taking a knife meant for him. Easy-peasy." Rory shook his head in disgust and started to step around Grist. The other man reached out to catch his arm.

"What… what are you suggesting I do?" he asked.

"Go and talk to Anne."

"I wouldn't… I wouldn't know where to begin."

"She summoned you back to court – she must be expecting you to turn up asking why. Start there," Rory suggested. "Look, I know… I know she hurt you and you don't want to give her a chance to do it again, but if you don't give her that chance she can't… not hurt you." Grist stared at him thoughtfully for a moment before something past Rory's shoulder caught his eye.

"Mistress Pond is here," he said. Rory turned to see Amy at the corner of the house, watching them. She started forward when he turned and he could see she was crying. He hurried to her, Grist forgotten.

"Amy…"

"Rory, what have I done?" she asked. Rory felt alarm course through him, quickly turning to relief at Amy's next words. "I… I hurt him and he… he's going to hate me… and I don't… how…" Her voice trailed off as she started to sob in earnest. Rory moved forward to put his arms around her, drawing her close.

"The Doctor doesn't hate you," he said.

"You… looked… like you did."

"I was angry," Rory replied. "You did hurt him, Amy. I know you didn't start out trying to do that but what you said, at the end…"

"It was a horrible thing to say."

"Yeah, it was."

"How… how do I fix it?"

"I don't know if you can," Rory admitted. "You can start with an apology though."

"Ok." Amy drew back in his embrace and he tightened his grip on her shoulders.

"In the morning, after he's had a chance to get some more sleep and things aren't quite so… raw."

"Ok." She nodded. "Poor Doctor. All he wanted was a day out – bit of a walk, nice picnic – and look what's happened." She turned under his arm, slipping one of hers about his waist and they started toward the house.

"I know," Rory said. "We need to take better care of him."


	43. The Doctor

The Doctor stared at the bowl on the table beside him, watching the steam rising from it. He was supposed to be eating – or perhaps drinking would be better – the broth it contained. Fitts had said so when he'd brought it in a few minutes ago. He'd brought two – one for Anne and one for the Doctor. The queen had hers on a tray in her lap; the Doctor's rested on the bedside table. Fitts had scooted his chair over to it and cleared away the old tea things to make room. He'd seemed anxious and he'd clearly wanted to hover over them, but he'd left the room once they were settled. The Doctor suspected he was waiting in the hall.

"Doctor?" Anne's voice was quiet. He slowly lifted his head from his study of the steam to find her watching him. "You… you don't have to stay in here," she said gently. "You were trying to leave and I didn't mean to drag you back. It just… seemed wise to get you away from Mas… from Rory and Grist." Her words were clear but it still took a moment for their meaning to register. His brain seemed to working very slowly.

"It's fine," he replied at last, looking away from her worried eyes. Part of him wanted to snap at her, to let rage and anger drown out his thoughts, but he couldn't seem to find the energy. He didn't feel angry at the moment, not even with Amy. He just felt old and tired and… empty.

Anne was still watching him in concern and he reached for the bowl of broth, hardly noticing how hot it was. He was about to take a sip when her hand came to rest on his wrist. She took the bowl away, settling it back on the table.

"You have to let it cool a bit or you'll burn yourself," she cautioned. She turned his hands in hers and he realized dimly she was making sure he hadn't hurt himself.

"I'm fine," he said, but he didn't pull away from her gentle grip. They were quiet for a moment before she spoke again.

"You know, the last time I saw Grist looking so angry he was waist-deep in muddy water," she told him, her lips twitching. "He'd tried to vault a creek. He was so certain he was going to impress us all and instead…" She stopped, giggling a little at the memory. "Fortunately the only thing injured was his pride. I remember he was so angry he wouldn't speak to any of us for a week."

"You… you knew him… as a child?" The Doctor felt his mind waking up, seizing on to this topic like a life-line. Here was something to distract him, something else to think about.

"Our families were neighbors," Anne explained. "All the children on both estates played together." The Doctor nodded, remembering her saying something similar before. It had been after her father's men had put the dead body of one of Grist's retainers into the wagon with them.

"That… that's how you knew the young man…"

"Mattias? Yes. His father was one of Lord Grist's retainers."

"I'm sor…" He stopped because Anne had covered his mouth with one of her hands.

"What happened to him wasn't _your_ fault," she said firmly. "You take too much upon yourself, Doctor." She moved her hand away from his mouth, laying it against his cheek before continuing. "I wasn't kidnapped because you were here. Geoff and my father had been planning this for a long time, waiting for an opportunity."

"Like you sending away part of your guard to help my friend," the Doctor muttered, shaking his head.

"If I hadn't done that, they would have found another way," she replied, catching his face again. Her other hand still held one of his, her grip tightening a little as she leaned forward. "You seem to be forgetting - if it weren't for your friends, I wouldn't have been rescued."

"Your people would have come after you."

Anne shook her head. "My guards did what they should have, and saw to the safety of my son," she said. "It was your friends – Amy and Rory – who convinced Lord Grist to come after us."

"He would have come anyway," the Doctor protested. "He's in love with you."

She shook her head again. "He might have been, once, but even then I think he loved his pride more."

"I don't think he wanted to hit me because I hurt his pride."

" _You_ didn't hurt me," Anne protested. "You kept me strong. If you hadn't been with me I don't know…" She stopped, trying to blink back tears. The Doctor reached out to cup her cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

"You didn't need me for that," he murmured. For a moment they sat in silence, his thumb continuing to stroke her cheek, her hand resting against his jaw. Finally Anne drew back, clearing her throat.

"Mm-hmm. You… you should eat. I think this has cooled enough now." She started to reach for the bowl but the Doctor caught on to her hand. He reached out with his other hand to turn her face back toward his.

"Thank you," he murmured. She gave him a half-smile before turning away again to get the tray she'd used. She settled it over his lap in the chair before passing him his bowl and spoon.

Anne moved to sit against the headboard of her bed once again while he ate. They were silent while he worked his way through the dish of broth but it was a comfortable silence. When he'd finished he set his bowl and the tray aside, slouching a little in the chair. The hollowed-out feeling from earlier was gone and he wondered if part of it had simply been hunger.

"What will you do when you leave here?" Anne asked, breaking the silence.

"Go somewhere else," he answered, shifting in the seat.

"With Amy and Rory?"

"I can't leave them here," he replied, fidgeting again.

"No, of course not. It's just… what Amy said to you…"

The Doctor felt anger stirring and couldn't stop himself from snapping. "You're wondering if I do run away anytime someone gets close?"

"No!" Anne protested. "That's not what I meant." She looked stricken and the Doctor felt his stomach clench with guilt.

"You meant do I want them to stay with me," he said quietly.

"Yes. Amy… I could see what she said hurt you."

"It did," he admitted, "but I've hurt her too." Twelve years and four psychiatrists she'd said. Twelve years of people telling her he wasn't real – that she'd imagined the whole encounter – and then two more years of wondering after he disappeared again. Saying he'd hurt her felt like an understatement.

"So," Anne said, breaking on his thoughts, "you'll keep traveling together."

"Yes, if that's what they want."

"Good. I don't like the idea of you being alone." She smiled at him and he nodded. She wasn't asking to come along. He felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. She would make a brilliant companion – she was everything Amy had said and more – but he couldn't take her away from her son, and he couldn't promise to keep her child safe.

"What will you do?" he asked. "Your father…"

"He's on his way to Gauline by now. King Francis would be delighted to shelter him from me." She sighed, shaking her head. "It won't be long before he's scheming something there. Francis will find he's sheltered a viper, and if he gets bitten in the process I won't feel sorry for him."

"What of the others – the ones captured here?"

"The sentence for treason is execution. The usual method…" She sucked in a breath, shuddering. "I don't care if they call me weak - I'll commute it to something less… torturous." She shivered again and the Doctor realized the air in the room was growing cooler. The light was also getting dimmer as evening fell.

"I should go," he said, shifting in the chair. "You're supposed to be resting."

"You don't…" Anne stopped, smothering a yawn before chuckling sheepishly. "You don't have to go."

"I don't want Rory getting cross with me," the Doctor told her, getting to his feet. Anne chuckled again.

"Very well. Goodnight, Doctor." She held out a hand and he caught it, returning her gentle squeeze before letting her go.

"Goodnight."

The hall was still brightly lit, torches glowing every few feet along the walls. A man was standing in the middle of the hall, turned toward the stairs. The Doctor bit back a groan when he recognized Lord Grist, but to his surprise, when the man turned to look at him he wasn't frowning.

"Doctor," he said. "Is… is she…" He nodded toward the queen's room.

"She's sleeping, or about to be," the Doctor replied. For a moment Grist looked disappointed. The Doctor was about to move on when the man squared his shoulders and turned his gaze back to him.

"I… I want to… apologize. For my attitude toward you," he said stiffly, clearly embarrassed. "I… I have been… unfair."

"You were worried about someone you care for," the Doctor replied, fighting back a yawn. Grist stepped aside to let him pass, reaching out a hand to steady him when he wobbled a little.

"You have very loyal friends," he said, moving with the Doctor toward his room. "I am grateful they were here." They reached the doorway and Grist moved ahead, going to light the lamp on the bedside table. He waited while the Doctor moved to sit on the bed, obviously having something more to say.

"I choose my friends," the Doctor paused as he yawned, "carefully." He looked up at Grist, surprised the man was here alone with him. "Do you know where they are?"

"Master Williams is looking in on old Fragin," Grist replied, "and Mistress Pond is in the kitchen with Maggie." The Doctor nodded. Rory would probably be up shortly to look in on Anne, and on him too. He wondered what Amy was doing in the kitchen with Maggie.

Grist cleared his throat, reminding the Doctor he was still hovering. The Doctor looked up at him.

"I did wonder… has Her Majesty told you much about her son?" he asked.

"She said he was five," the Doctor replied slowly. He knew he'd heard something else, something important, but for a moment he couldn't remember what it was.

"Prince Arthur has a withered leg," Grist said and the Doctor nodded as he remembered. Anne hadn't said it but her father had. "He uses a crutch to walk, he'll never be able to ride a horse…"

"You want to know if I can heal him."

"Yes." Grist waited while the Doctor mentally reviewed the contents of his med kit. "I'd have to take him into my… vessel," he said at last.

"But you could do it?"

"Yes."

"Will you?" Grist pressed.

"If Anne… if Her Majesty approves, yes."

"Thank you," Grist said, his eyes shining as he reached out to shake the Doctor's hand. "Thank you. I… I will speak to Her Majesty in the morning."

"Good. That's good." The Doctor yawned again, turning to stretch out on the bed.

Grist was almost to the door when he remembered his question about Amy. The man turned as the Doctor sat up on the bed once more.

"Doctor…"

"What is Amy doing in the kitchen?"

"I'm not sure," Grist replied. "First I thought she said she was going to make custard, but when I left she was talking about something called 'fish fingers.' She and Mistress Fragin were trying to figure out how to make them." The Doctor laughed. He was never going to live down that particular post-regeneration craving. He sank back into the bed with a smile. He wasn't sure he'd even like fish fingers and custard now, but that wasn't the point. _Amy's trying to make amends._ The thought filled him with warmth as he drifted to sleep.


	44. Anne

Anne woke to the sound of snoring. Her room was still mostly dark and she could just make out the figure of a man in the chair. She smiled a little, wondering who had kept watch over her this time. Whoever he is, he should have saved himself the stiff neck and gone to bed, she thought. The weakness she'd felt the previous day was gone and she felt not only awake but clear-headed. She was also very aware of how long it had been since she'd last bathed. She longed for a chance to soak in a tub of warm water and wash her hair. She wondered how far off the dawn was, and if there would be anything for her to wear after she'd bathed. Amy had found a dress somewhere; perhaps there were others. She could send to the crater for her things, but that would bring not only her luggage but a stream of courtiers.

The thought of her courtiers waiting in the crater made her groan. Curiosity and rumors had to be rampant by now. She wondered how many of them knew what had happened to her, and how many more suspected. Doubtless new factions were forming even now and would continue to merge and change as the party from the crater returned to court. She'd have to be wary (without appearing wary) while the balances of power shifted around her. One wrong step and she might find herself vulnerable to a challenge.

For a moment Anne let herself imagine running away. What if she didn't go back to court? What if she ran away with the Doctor and his friends? No more playing politics, no more courtly rituals, no more being queen. That alone was an exhilarating thought, never mind getting to see new worlds and meet new peoples. But even more exciting than the idea of escaping court and exploring the universe was the thought of getting to know the three remarkable people she'd met better. Rory Williams had impressed her with his loyalty and compassion from the start. Amy Pond was firey and impulsive, but not without kindness. The Doctor was… fascinating – old and young, funny and sad all at the same time. She felt her face grow warm as she remembered the way his thumb had brushed her cheek.

Her exhilaration was short-lived as she remembered the Doctor's reluctance to bring her along. He was convinced she'd be in danger if she came and he didn't believe he could keep her safe. She would have been tempted to argue with him if she'd only had herself to worry about – after all he'd brought Amy and Rory along - but leaving Arthur behind was unthinkable. She couldn't abandon her son and she couldn't knowingly take him in to danger either. Life at court wasn't exactly safe, but she knew those perils. She didn't know if she'd be able to spot the dangers while traveling with the Doctor.

Her room was slowly lightening and Anne sat up on the bed, turning to see who was sitting in the chair. Lord Grist was slumped there, his face pressed into the wing of the chair as he snored. Anne froze, staring at him in disbelief. He was the last person she would have expected to find keeping watch over her this way. She felt her heart-rate increase as she studied him. She'd had no right to expect any consideration from him after the way she'd treated him. She'd never really thought he'd answer her summons to the palace, let alone mount a rescue attempt when she was kidnapped. Now he was here in her room and she had no idea what she was going to say when he woke up.

The timber of Grist's snoring changed and Anne realized he was stirring in the chair. She felt her heart start to race. Should she stay sitting up and face him, or should she slide back down and pretend to be asleep? Movement in her doorway caught her eye and she looked over to see the Doctor standing there. As she watched he nodded toward Grist, grinning widely. His hands were out, the fingers curled and his thumbs pointed up to the ceiling. She guessed, from his wild smile, this was supposed to be a gesture of encouragement. Encouraging what exactly she wondered. Rory appeared behind him, shaking his head slightly. He gave her an apologetic smile before hustling the Doctor away.

When Anne looked back to the chair, Grist was awake and staring at her. There was a red mark running down one side of his face where he'd been pressed up against the chair. The mark vanished under his close-cropped beard. The beard was new, to her at least, and she took a moment to take in what other changes six years had made. She decided time had not been harsh to him. He wore his hair shorter now but it was as black as she remembered and while there were a few lines around his eyes, they were as vibrant a blue as ever. He was still staring and she wondered what changes he saw in her.

"Good… good morning," she said at last, unable to bear the silence any longer.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," Grist answered, dropping his gaze and shifting a little in the chair. "I… I trust you slept well."

"I did, thank you," Anne said. Another awkward silence fell. She studied the edge of her blanket, unsure what to say next. She wanted to ask Grist why he'd spent the night crammed into a chair in her room, why he'd come to her rescue, but she was afraid. The anger she'd seen in him the night before seemed to be gone but she didn't want to revive it. When she dared to look at him, he was studying the hem of his tunic, a slight flush appearing behind his beard.

"You…

"I…" They both spoke at once and came to a stop. Anne felt her face growing warm and the flush on Grist's grew more pronounced. He fidgeted in the chair.

"I… I want to thank you," Anne said. "I never thought… I didn't think you'd even answer my summons to court, let alone come after me…"

"Don't thank me," he protested. "I… I had no intention of coming after you. It was Mistress Pond's doing. She was… insistent."

"Oh." Anne took a shaky breath, ducking her head to hide the hurt she felt. "Still… whatever the reason, you came and I am grateful."

"I am too," he said. Anne lifted her head in surprise. "I… I have spent the last six years telling myself I hated you, that you were never the girl I thought I knew. I see now how wrong I was."

"You have every reason to hate me…"

"I had reason to be angry, with both of you, but I carried on with it for far too long. It's time I let it go."

"I can't say I regret my marriage to Henry because if I hadn't married him I wouldn't have Arthur, but I do regret very much the way it was done. I should have tried to tell you years ago…"

"You couldn't have, not while Henry was alive. A king does not ever need to apologize."

"I don't think Henry would agree with you," Anne said. "Near the end he… he told me many things. He deeply regretted the loss of your friendship. He said… he said you made him a better man, and a better king."

"It isn't easy, being the conscience of a king, as you well know." Grist arched a brow and Anne smiled.

"With Henry, very little was easy," she said. Grist chuckled and Anne felt some of her tension easing. They continued to talk, sharing stories about Henry, and by the time Rory arrived with a breakfast tray the awkwardness between them was gone.

Anne's stomach rumbled as Rory approached with the tray, and she smiled to hear Grist's doing the same.

"I brought enough for you both," Rory assured them, settling the tray on the bed.

"Is this what Mistress Pond and Mistress Fragin were working on last night?" Grist asked. Rory made a face and Anne laughed.

"Fish fingers and custard? I don't think you'd want that," he answered. There was a muffled "Oi" from the direction of the hall, followed a loud whisper from the Doctor.

"I said I appreciated the thought…"

"Sshh. They'll hear you," hissed Amy's voice.

"Too late," Rory called over his shoulder, rolling his eyes. "I'm sorry. They just…"

"Wanted to see how you two were getting on!" finished the Doctor, stepping into the room with a bright smile on his face. He had changed out of his night-shirt and was wearing his strange jacket, trousers, and bow-tie. Someone had found him a white shirt, the type most men wore under their tunics. It was too large and it billowed out around his braces and poked out from the sleeves of his jacket. The collar was supposed to stand up under a tunic, but it had been modified so it folded down. As she watched, he reached up to adjust his bow-tie, his eyes twinkling.

"We're getting on fine," she told him, glancing at Grist. He looked bemused, the lines around his eyes deepening as he smiled. Rory passed him a plate, sending a sharp look at Amy.

"We should let them eat," he said.

"It's alright," Anne said. Amy needed no further invitation. She came forward to perch on the end of Anne's bed. The Doctor came across the room to lean against the bedside table and with a sigh, Rory moved to stand beside his wife.

"At least let them eat before you start up," he said.

"Of course," the Doctor replied, eying Grist's plate. "Is that bacon?"

"Doctor…" Rory protested.

"I was just asking. I like bacon now, remember?"

"Yes," Amy huffed.

"I get that the three of you are travelers, and more than ordinary travelers," Grist said, "but I am curious about one thing."

"Only one?" asked the Doctor.

"How is it that the three of you have wound up here? What's so special about Umbria that it caught your attention?"

"I was wondering that too," Anne said. "All of time and space to choose from and you come here."

"We wanted a picnic," Rory said, glancing at the others.

"We had a nice picnic," the Doctor added. "And then we had a walk."

"And then you fell in a hole," Amy put in.

"But we met some lovely people, didn't we?" The Doctor smiled and Amy laughed.

"Yeah, we did," she agreed, returning his smile.  
"Time and space?" Grist asked.

"Yeah," Rory said. "It's… complicated."

"No doubt," Grist replied, shaking his head. He passed his mostly empty plate to the Doctor, who proceeded to snatch up the remaining piece of bacon with a triumphant smile. Amy shook her head, turning her bright eyes toward Grist.

"Have you asked her yet? What did she say?" Grist started before shaking his head sheepishly.

"Asked me what?" Anne frowned, setting aside her fork.

"Amy…" Rory cautioned, putting a hand on her arm.

"I… I asked the Doctor if he might be able to help Arthur," Grist said. "To heal his leg."

"You… you could do that?" Anne felt a lump forming in her throat.

"I don't know yet – I'll have to get him into the TARDIS – that's my ship - medical bay first," the Doctor replied.

"But… you're willing to try?" Her heart was racing now. Arthur might be able to walk again, to ride a horse if he wished, to play as other children did. It was too much to hope for. She felt tears stinging her eyes and tried to blink them away.

"Of course," he answered, smiling. Anne nodded, unable to stop her tears any longer. The Doctor took a half-step toward her before stopping. A second later Grist came to the bed, moving the tray aside and drawing Anne into his arms.

"Don't… don't cry," he protested. "Please, Anne."

"It's just… I never dreamed…" She became aware of the others moving toward the door and reached out to catch the Doctor's hand. "Thank you. Thank you both."


	45. Epilogue

The morning before the Doctor's departure was clear and cool. The whole party – Anne, Grist, his men, the Fragins, the Doctor, Amy, and Rory –left the Ostem Manor house shortly after dawn, traveling toward Stoketon. Fragin knew a short-cut through the woods which would alow them to complete their ride in the better part of a day. The pace was easy; though Fragin, the Doctor, and Anne were recovered, no one wanted to push them.

Prince Arthur was waiting to receive them in the hall of Stoketon Manor. He greeted the party formally, impressing Amy yet again with his maturity. Anne stood by, smiling with pride, until his greetings were completed. Then she dropped to her knees and held open her arms. Arthur flung himself into them in an instant, all formality forgotten.

The rest of the evening continued in an informal vein, with the whole party dining together in the great hall. Everyone seemed to be talking at once, moving from conversation to conversation seamlessly. Even Lady Haver had joined in, her concerns about "position" apparently forgotten. Arthur had retired early, gradually followed by others. By evening's end the only people left in the hall were the Doctor, Anne, Grist, Rory, and Amy. They settled on benches near one of the fireplaces, watching the flames dance in the hearth. The group was quiet, feeling somewhat subdued as they realized this was their last evening together.

Amy and Rory had spent the past four days keeping a close eye on the Doctor. Rory had insisted they give the queen more time to recover before traveling so the whole group had remained at Ostem. The Doctor had tolerated the inactivity fairly well. He'd visited with Grist's men, talked about cooking with Maggie Fragin, and helped with clearing some of the rubbish from the hall. He'd seemed cheerful but there were moments when Amy thought he looked almost wistful. She'd wanted to ask him what he was thinking about but she was afraid to make things worse. She'd turned to Rory, feeling a rush of pride and gratitude when he managed to come up with ways to distract the Doctor.

Queen Anne had seemed to have the most difficulty with their idleness. She'd been anxious to see her son and to deal with the courtiers waiting in the crater. Grist had helped her concoct a story for them, explaining she and her brother had been removed to the manor house due to illness. Her brother had succumbed but she was recovering. The courtiers were urged to return to the capital and most of them were more than ready to go, being thoroughly tired of living in tents.

The queen was sitting next to Grist now and occasionally his hand brushed against hers. He'd kept busy over the past four days, not only helping with Anne's story but also seeing to the dismantling of the torture chamber in the basement of the manor house (the Doctor had helped, his sonic screwdriver making quick work of taking apart some of the implements), and arranging for Trock and Montague to be transferred to a prison. When he wasn't busy with those tasks, he'd divided his time between talking with Anne and talking with Rory.

Anne hadn't been entirely idle; Amy knew she was planning something for their departure the next day. She'd been in consultation with Maggie Fragin and Grist, and at one point earlier in the evening she'd taken Lady Haver aside for a hushed conversation. Now, despite obviously being tired (she'd yawned several times) there was an undercurrent of excitement about her. When she yawned a fifth time, Rory gently suggested they should all get to bed and the group reluctantly rose, making their way upstairs to their rooms.

The next morning was sunny and warm. The group ate together again in the hall. Lady Haver didn't join them this time but she did appear at one point to speak quietly with the queen. Whatever she said pleased Anne because she was smiling when she returned to the table. Grist returned her grin when she returned to the table. A few minutes later a servant moved through the hall, bearing a large basket. The Doctor arched his brows.

"You did come for a picnic," Anne told him. He grinned, glancing at Amy and Rory who nodded.

"We're not in any hurry," Amy said.

"We don't have to be – we've got a time machine," added Rory.

Once breakfast was finished, the horses were prepared and the group set out for the TARDIS. The pace was a leisurely one. Landon had the picnic basket on the back of his saddle while Grist held the prince in front of him on his horse. Arthur was wide-eyed, excited to be on horseback but a little intimidated to be with the group of adults. The Doctor leaned over to say something to him and the little boy laughed, most of his nervousness vanishing. As the journey progressed Amy could hear him asking Grist questions. From time to time the Doctor would lean over to say something, always managing to get the boy giggling.

They reached the TARDIS at mid-morning, and the Doctor's relief at seeing the ship was obvious.

"Did you think someone was going to steal it?" Amy teased.

"It's happened before," he muttered, slipping from his horse and starting for the doors. Amy and Rory dropped down from their saddles and started after him, but when they were almost to the ship, Rory caught Amy's arm.

"Give them a moment," he said. Amy rolled her eyes but stopped, letting the Doctor enter the TARDIS on his own. He was inside for a moment before he reappeared at the door.

"Well, come on then. We've got work to do!" he called, grinning. Amy looked over her shoulder at Anne, who was staring at the doorway and looking amazed. Grist was beside her, holding Arthur and looking shocked. Anne started forward at once, her smile growing broader but Grist stayed where he was.

"I… I don't think I can go in there," he said. Amy started to huff but Rory just nodded.

"It's alright," he told the other man, stepping over to take the prince from his arms. "It can be a bit… overwhelming."

"How about you, Your Highness? You ok with coming in to my magic box?" asked the Doctor. Arthur glanced at his mother, who had stopped at the doorway, and nodded. His eyes were wide again but there was also a half-smile on his face. Grist looked torn, clearly wanting to follow but just as clearly afraid. Amy stepped over to him, putting a hand on his arm.

"C'mon, we'll get the picnic set up," she said, tugging on him gently. He turned away as Anne, Rory, and Arthur followed the Doctor into the TARDIS.

By the time they returned half-an-hour later, the picnic was ready. The horses were gathered near the edge of the field and had settled in to graze on the deep green grass. Blankets had been spread over the ground, anchored at the corners with stakes. Anne had also packed cushions and Amy was leaning against one when the doors to the TARDIS opened. She sat up, hearing Grist's sharp intake of breath as Arthur stepped out unaided. He stood for a moment and the field was silent as everyone stared at him. Then Grist moved, shifting up from the blanket to his knees and smiling.

"Your Majesty," he said. Arthur had laughed in delight and launched himself at the bearded man.

"I can walk!" he shouted. "And I can run!" He gave Grist a quick hug before dashing away.

Arthur spent the next half-hour running through the field, chased by Landon and Robbard. The prince was shrieking with laughter and the two men were chuckling and beaming. Anne settled on the blankets, leaning against a cushion and watching the play with moist eyes.

"I… I can't thank you enough, Doctor," she said finally, turning her gaze to him. The Doctor flushed, ducking his head a little.

"Yeah, well…" He shrugged, for once at a loss for words. The wistful look Amy had seen before was back, and once again Rory stepped in.

"Let's see what's in here," he suggested, opening the picnic basket and starting to pass around food.

The queen had arranged a huge spread of food. Every time Amy thought they'd reached the bottom of the basket, Rory brought out something else. There were several kinds of sandwiches, deviled eggs (the Doctor's eyes lit up at the sight of them), pâté, crackers, cheeses, a half-dozen varieties of cookies, two different wines, juice, and tea.

Landon and Robbard spotted the food and managed to herd Arthur toward the blankets. When he saw the food he ran the rest of the way, dropping to his knees beside his mother and panting as he stared at the spread.

"Who else is coming to eat, Mama?" he asked breathlessly, prompting laughter from everyone else. The Doctor's melancholy seemed to lift and soon they were all passing around the platters and helping themselves to drinks. The food piled up quickly on their plates and Amy wondered how the others were going to manage to ride back to Stoketon after eating so much. All she had to do was walk in to the TARDIS and watch the Doctor flip levers on the console. The thought of lurching about the ship while stuffed full of food made her slow her eating, even as she wondered if she might be able to persuade him to use the blue stabilizers for this trip.

Eventually everyone's eating slowed, then stopped. Arthur curled up on his side to nap, exhausted from the day's excitement. Anne stroked his hair idly, smiling contentedly. Rory stretched out as well and Amy let him settle his head in her lap. Grist was sitting close to Anne, his shoulder just brushing hers, and as Amy watched he caught hold of one of her hands. The wistful look was returning to the Doctor's face and Amy reached out to catch one of his hands.

"Maybe it's time," she murmured and he nodded.

"Before you go, there are some things we need to take care of," Grist said, glancing at Anne. She nodded and he released her hand, retrieving a bundle from behind the picnic basket. The queen sat up a little straighter, unwrapping the bundle carefully and drawing out a leather pouch.

"These are for you, Mistress Pond," she said, extending it to Amy. Rory sat up to watch as Amy opened the bag and drew out a pair of jeweled hair combs. Blue stones were nestled between pearls, all set in silver.

"They're beautiful," Amy murmured, turning them carefully in her hands. "Thank you."

"Thank you, Mistress Pond," Grist answered, glancing at Anne.

"I have something for you as well, Master Williams," Anne said, getting to her feet. "Please, kneel." Rory looked at Amy who nodded encouragingly.

"O… Ok," he stammered, moving in to place. Grist passed Anne a sword and she held it before her.

"I name you Sir Rory," she announced, tapping the flat of the blade against each of his shoulders. Rory ducked his head, blushing furiously. "Please rise, Sir Roy," Anne said, taking a step back. Rory got to his feet, his face growing redder, and Anne presented him with the sword. There were red jewels set in the handle, gleaming in the sunlight.

"Thank… thank you," he said, turning the sword carefully in his hands. Grist rose as well, passing him a decorated scabbard and Rory slipped the blade into it. He took a step back, coming to stand beside Amy as the queen turned to the Doctor. The Time Lord got to his feet, looking uncomfortable and Amy remembered Liz 10's words _knighted and exiled on the same day._

"It wasn't easy choosing a gift for you," Anne told him. "I know you have no need of titles, or jewels, but I wanted you to have something."

"You don't…" the Doctor began.

"We do," Grist countered, passing Anne a rolled up parchment. There was an elaborate wax seal holding the roll closed and Grist passed a small knife to the Doctor so he could lift it. He returned the blade before unrolling the parchment. His face was still as he studied the writing and Amy felt herself growing impatient to know what it said.

"It's a title," he said at last, "to the Ostem Manor house."

"You'll always have a home here," Anne explained, smiling nervously at the Doctor. He shifted his eyes to the parchment for a moment before looking up at her.

"Thank you," he said softly. Amy thought he might cry for a moment but he stepped forward to hug Anne. When he turned to shake Grist's hand he was smiling and then it seemed like everyone was hugging everyone else, shaking hands, and wishing each other well. Finally Amy, Rory, and the Doctor made it to the TARDIS. He opened the door and motioned them ahead of him, looking back to the crowd.

"You don't want to miss this," he told them, his eyes twinkling. He lifted his hand in a wave before stepping inside and bounding up to the console. He turned on the scanner and Amy and Rory turned to watch the faces of the crowd as the TARDIS began to thrum and disappear.

Once they were underway, Amy studied the Doctor, looking for any signs he was sad.

"Where to now, Pond?" he asked, flipping a lever with gusto. Rory glanced at Amy before speaking up.

"I think I feel ready to run down a corridor," he said. "How about you, Amy?"

"I think I could handle some running," she answered. "Yeah, running's good."

"Right," the Doctor said, reaching for another switch. "Running it is!"


End file.
